Deads Like Me
by Slytherin Cat
Summary: Wizards aren't the only one to be special, everyone knows that. They forgot, however, that magical creatures weren't the only one they had to share their lives with... Once upon a time, Necromancers were respected and praised, but now few remember what they were. How Harry, the first Necromancers in decades, if not centuries, will deal with the fact that his power is deamed a myth?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. If it did, I think you'd know. The only thing that's mine is the idea. The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling.

This is my first story that's not an OS, so I'm not sure how it will go. Please, try not to mind too much the faults…  
Enjoy! And don't forget to tell me what you thought.

**Chapter 1:**

Harry had always been a strange child. Even his parents, who loved him so very dearly, could not deny it. After all, they often found him waving his hands and stammering in his own baby speech to an empty spot in the room, as if saluting someone, like someone was talking to him. In the Potter's house, it was no strange occurrence to hear a child laughs, and when looking for what caused it, to find the baby alone in the room.

However, the infant was under two, and he was for the most part alone anyway or left with adults. It was no wonder in the minds of James and Lily that to amuse himself by inventing an imaginary friend. It was not so far-fetched, James told himself. After all, he himself had had a few of those when he was young, growing up as he was nearly alone with his parents in the big manor. It would pass when he'd grow up. And, for now, it was useful, as it kept the lad occupied and mostly quiet.

Lily, who, while she didn't want to disagree with her husband thought that it could be beneficial for their child to have a real life friend who could, later, show him the difference between the friends that only he could see, and the others. So she decided to introduce Harry to Neville, the child of Alice Longbottom, one of her best friends in Hogwarts.

Alice, like herself, got married with the heir of an old pureblood family. She and Lily fell pregnant at the same time, more or less four years after finishing their magical education. Alice and Frank's child, Neville, was in fact born only a few hours before Harry. They had at first planned to raise their children together, but it had been impossible, due to their duties to the Order. Albus Dumbledore, their leader, had told the two women and their families, a few weeks before they came to term when it had become obvious just when they would have their child, that they had to isolate themselves has much has possible, and not to allow their child out, for their safety. When asked, the old man told them that he had reason to believe that the Dark Lord Voldemort would target them, and more specifically their children, leading to the cancellation of their projects. But it had been more than a year now, since Dumbledore told them these horrible news and he had had no new informations about why or when Voldemort would attack.

Had they been more attentive or less preoccupied, they could have noticed the strange look in the old man's eyes, and identified it as guilt. But then, he had no reason to be guilty, so why should they bother looking for it?

However, in order to make the meeting possible, the protections in place until now on the place were deemed insufficient. Thus, when the problem was brought forth at the next Order meeting, Albus suggested the Fidelius charm, an obscure charm that hided a house except for those 'in the know'. All the people that knew where their house was before would forget it unless they were told directly by the Secret Keeper.

And so, in September 1981, Albus Dumbledore cast the Fidelius charm on their little cottage in Godric's Hollow and, a day later, on the Longbottom's house. James, Lily, Alice and Frank had then exactly a day and an hour to choose a Secret Keeper they trusted or the spell would fall. Fortunately, they had already discussed it before, and though they had originally wanted to give their friend Sirius Black the honor of keeping their families safe, he had made a point in telling them that it might be better to use a decoy, something nobody would think they would do. Remus, another of their friend, being recovering from a full moon was unavailable for the allowed time, Frank and Alice had no friends they trusted that much, and so, they choose Peter Pettigrew to keep their secrets, in spite of the strange feeling that Lily felt when they choose him. She would have preferred to have Sirius or even Remus as their guardian, but Peter was a good friend of theirs too, and he would never betray them to Voldemort. She was just worried by their situation, a situation that showed no sign of improvement, but that was even degrading itself. They had learnt that the Dark Lord had a spy in their midst after all. Yes, that was it. She was too worried. Simple.

Anyway, now that the charm was done, Harry could have a real-life friend, and stop waving at imaginary people all the time. Hopefully. Being a parent was such a difficult job sometimes, sighed Lily, but it was so rewarding to see that little boy smiling.

oO – DLM – Oo

Baby Harry smiled from his crib to the pretty lady in front of him. She had jet black hair, like his daddy, but hers were straight and nice blue eyes. She was making faces at him and trying to make him talk. The young boy had indeed said his first words a few weeks ago, _Da-y _and _Mu-y_(yes, the pronunciation wasn't perfect, but he was only one year old, so he had an excuse), respectively to his mum and his dad.

Of course the mistake had prompted Lily to immediately try to correct him (something that took a little over a week, though she was adamant that it would have been quicker if James wasn't always trying to undo her work behind her back) while James laughed it off.

Both were of course very proud of him, and had worked since then on his vocabulary. He had learnt a few new words quickly, and could even after Lily's lessons pronounce their names correctly.

But coming back to the matter at hand, the lady was trying to teach him to say 'grandmother' or 'grandma'. So far, it wasn't very successful, but Dorea was very stubborn and would not abandon the task she set herself. She had to be, after all when she had married Charlus Potter quite a few years ago, it had caused a scandal and she had been cast off her family, even if in her mind, it had been worth it just to be with the man she loved.

Dorea Black, now Potter, was James' mother. It seemed normal to see her trying to teach her grandson her name – since he could already say _Grandpa_ well enough, a fact that her husband was always reminding her of, and that annoyed her to no end (and the bastard knew it! Well, it was too bad for him, really…). Harry bright green eyes were sparkling with glee as he butchered **again** her name (how _Lama _was similar to _Grandma_ anyway?). Had the child been older, she would have thought he did that on purpose, but he was just one, so… A pretty normal scene, one would think.

Except that Dorea and her husband had been killed two years ago by Death Eaters and so shouldn't be there, in the room with a baby that they never knew. One could think that since they were wizards, they could now be ghosts and that it explained their presence in the room. But they weren't ghosts and thus weren't supposed to be seen, like ghosts couldn't be seen by non-magical people.

You see, when magical people died, they could stay behind, as ghost, usually when they had some unresolved business or were too afraid to die, or they could move on. In such a case, they often left behind them a sort of imprint, who had their experiences and behaviors. They normally stayed a few decades before fading into nothingness, depending on their own magical power (which they couldn't use, being dead) and its level. Thus, a very powerful wizard or witch could stay decades longer than near-squibs.

Another important factor to define the duration of the Imprints' _stay behind_ was the place where they spent most of their life and where they died. For instance, it was assumed that someone who died in a place of high magical level, like Hogwarts, the Ministry or even an old family manor would linger longer than if they died in some street or in the Muggle world.

Anyway, no matter how long they might stay, Imprints weren't visible by ordinary wizards, let alone Muggles. And unlike ghosts, who sometimes could be seen by non-magical people in special circumstances, Imprints could only be seen by the ones who made several difficult, long and taxing blood rituals or Necromancers. And if the first were rare, the second were so nearly inexistent they were often considered as a myth.

Of course, old wizarding families knew that they existed, since a Necromancer appeared sometimes, usually in pureblood families. Having one was considered an honor once upon a time, since they could speak with the dead and such help find lost heirlooms, explain successions when a parent died and help solve difficult cases.

However, in the 17th century, a Necromancer turned Dark Lord and used his powers to create armies of undead soldiers and trapped some of the Imprints via a ritual he half-found, half-created, in the form of terrible wraith that searched the missing component of their half-lives : a soul. Unfortunately, they weren't made to hold one and so were still searching and taking as much souls as they could.

In the atmosphere of fear thus created, the Ministry labeled Necromancy as a Dark Art, and the public began to scorn upon Necromancers, who were slowly forgotten by the masses, only remembered in some well-preserved old manuscripts in pureblood families existing before this chase.

Nowadays, most people considered Necromancers like the demon's spawn. In other words, if you were one, you better had hidden it very carefully, since Light families would deport you to Azkaban (if you were lucky) or throw you through the Veil, which was an obscure artifact that had been used to execute criminals for centuries. Of course, this being the magical world, nobody even knew where it lead or what it did, such records having either been destroyed or forgotten in some library of an old family, most certainly an extinct one.

As for Dark family, well, it was more complicated since Necromancy was considered as a Dark Art. Some undoubtedly held Necromancers in very high regards and respected them, while other would try to exploit them. There were after all a few blood rituals that needed a little _help_ from a Necromancer.

No, if you were one, you'd better hide and pray no one noticed.

Which was why Charlus was so worried about his young grandson, especially since it seemed a Dark Lord was targeting him. _Not even two, and he already has such powerful enemies! Definitively a Potter, that one!_ He thought fondly, looking at the child his wife was amusing. _What are we gonna do with you?_

He knew what Harry was the moment he realized the young lad could see them. Shortly before his coming of age, his father, like his father before him, had let him read the family grimoires. There and then, he had learnt a part of the truth about Necromancers, since they had had an old ancestor who knew one personally. Thus, he had some insight about their powers and what difficulties laid in the future for his grandson. His wife, being a Black, had no prejudice toward the boy and his ability.

He only hoped that James would be fair, since he hadn't had the time to show him the dusty books, and forget this stupid attitude of his to consider all Gryffindors as good and all Slytherins as bad. He was well on his way; helped by the fact that his wife, being a muggle-born, had no such prejudice, but even she must have heard stories about the "evil" Necromancers.

There was also the fact that as Imprints, they were bound to only one place, and they didn't get to choose. So, if they chose to live elsewhere, Harry would meet other Imprints but wouldn't be able to see them anymore, except if he came back. And those wouldn't be necessarily nice with him, at least not until he learnt to control his gift. A feat which would be difficult since his parents didn't know what to deal with.

He sighed, before leaning closer to the small baby, relishing in the giggles the boy made. He looked at his wife and they smiled down at the dark-haired horror who was trying to pull his wife's hair. The brat smiled at them with such a sweet innocent smile that they couldn't stay angry with him for more than a few seconds.

Yes, _life_ was good for now, and they couldn't do anything else than enjoying it for as long as it lasted.

oO – DLM – Oo

"So… they're leaving. That's it. Just like that?" Dorea said sadly. "But why? I mean, everyone know that they're safer here than anywhere, even them. For Merlin's sake, that stupid Dark Lord's been after them for years and would have found them if not for the wards around here!" she added anxiously.

The scene took place in the living room of Potter Manor, just after Charlus, having heard a discussion between his son and his daughter-in-law, reported back to his wife. The place was well-lit and decorated with warm colors to create a cozy feeling.

"From what I understood, they… worry that Harry have _imaginary_ friends and think that he need to socialize a bit more. That's why they choose to introduce him to another child, however they felt additional protection would be needed, and thus choose to use a Fidelius spell, whatever that is. I assume that it's another ward, and you know as well as I do that it's nearly impossible to add anything to the protections in place here." Her husband answered.

Dorea looked gob-smacked. "A _Fidelius?_ Are you sure that's what you heard? Oh Merlin, where did they learn that? It's ancient!"

"You know what it is?"

"Of course I do! Well, scratch that, I know that spell only because it was in the Black library in an old and very dusty book. But how did they find it? I mean, it's obvious it's not in your library, because you'd have heard of it if it was…" she stopped there, interrupted by Charlus' sniggering. "What?"

"You're such a Ravenclaw!" He prudently stopped there seeing his wife's glare. "Hmm, so you do know what it does?"

"Yes. Basically, it hides you so only the one person you trust the most and the one he tells it can find you. For the others, it's as if you aren't there, and all knowledge of the place they might have had is forgotten. They could be looking through your window, for them; there wouldn't be anything of interest."

"So it's a good defense? If no one can find you and where you are then you're safe. They would be safe under such a charm."

"Of course, but they're already safe here! Why bother changing place? Surely Harry could see his friend here!" Dorea indignantly proclaimed.

"If they're safe, it's good, isn't it? That way, they'll come back eventually. And Harry does need to socialize, you know. We'll miss him, of course, but there really is nothing we can do about it. Unfortunately."

"Yeah, that's right. I forgot, with Harry that can see us, it's hard to remember sometimes that others can't. What do we do now?"

"We wait. That's all we can do. And we hope that everything will be alright in the end and that they'll come back soon."

They sighed, and leaned toward each other on the sofa, the words echoing in their heads like a promise. _Wait. Wait and hope._

oO – DLM – Oo

**A month later, in Godric's Hallow.**

"Lily, it's him! Take Harry and run, I'll hold him off" James' voice came from the floor below. _Oh Peter, how could you? We were friends, almost brothers!_ His eyes tightened in anger and he gripped tightly his wand, preparing himself for what could, no, what would be, the last battle of his life. "I'm a Potter, I'm not gonna go without putting one hell of a fight!" he muttered, before rising his voice at the monster he knew was just outside the door. "Hey, bastard! You think you can hurt my family and get away with it?"

"Well, I think I already did, don't you think? Your wife make such lovely screams…"Voldemort taunted nastily. "Perhaps I should let you live a bit longer so you can hear them?" He stepped aside to avoid a jet of black light. "Playing nasty, aren't you? If that's how you want it, I shall… indulge you. _Crucio_!"

"You already lost! You failed to kill us three times already! What makes you think you'll be victorious this time? How proud of their Lord must your followers be! So powerful he can't even get rid of the ones that defy him! A shame really!" James' snarled back at him. He shouted a chain of spells, the firsts breaking down some furniture, the ones after transforming the pieces in animals he set towards his opponent.

The battle went on, the two duelers thoroughly destroying the Potters' living-room, and taunting each other in hope of distracting the other. Until, finally, it became evident Voldemort had the advantage, since James couldn't keep up with the superior magical power, especially because he was so tired and wounded rather heavily, though his opponent had suffered too.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

As he saw the green light, his last thought was to his family, and how he hoped Lily had had the time to flee.

**Meanwhile, upstairs.**

Lily, upon hearing what would probably be her husband last words, allowed herself to let out a single tear, despite the blurring of her vision, and took a deep breath to calm herself. _I love you James. Forever and always._ She took her wand out, and hurried to her baby's room. "_Collaportus_!" was the first spell she said, making the door disappear immediately. It would not be enough to stop Him, but it might buy her precious seconds.

She took hold of Harry, and holding her pendant, whispered hurriedly "Home", only to find herself not having moved an inch. Cursing Peter, the traitor, under her breath, she thought that he must have told of their safety measures.

She put Harry back in his crib, and smiling sadly, kissed his forehead. "Mummy loves you. Don't you dare forget that. I hope you have a fantastic life Harry." She almost shocked on the last part.

The redhead vanished the carpet under the cot, and took a last glance at the almost invisible runes graved in the floor. "Merlin, God, whoever there is, I hope this work!" Taking out a small silver knife she kept laced to her right ankle, she used it to draw blood in her left hand. Hissing softly while looking reassuringly in her son's worried emerald's eyes, she let it fall on the activation rune in the center of the ritual circle surrounding her child's bed. The flash of light that then happened told her that the protection was active and impressed the reality of the situation in bright red behind her closed eyelids.

She wiped her blade clean on her trousers' leg and used her wand to seal the cut. She tried to listen in the fight between her husband and the Dark Lord, but could only hear silence. She just her eyes tightly to prevent her tears from falling and took, again a deep breath. '_James, I hope our sacrifices will not be vain.' _

And then she heard it. The heavy footsteps on the grinding stairs, slowly ascending toward the room they were in. They stopped in the corridor and she let out a breath of relief, but not for long.

A cold, heartless laughter that shilled even her bones bloomed behind her door before said door was destroyed. Through the dust this action produced stepped the dark-cloaked wizard, if he still could be called one. It was sure that he was not human anymore, as showed his blood-red eyes, the paleness of his skin, almost transparent, contrasting with his black as night hair. His nose had almost disappeared, and in its stead were two slit-like nostrils, without doubts the result of one of the numerous rituals he had made. The cruel smile on his face was, though, the most horrible thing about this monster.

Lily wanted desperately to defend herself and her baby, but she knew she couldn't, because the protection she created would only hold as long as she made no move to defend herself. _A life for a life. One lost in order to save one._ It was how it worked, and hopefully she could that way still protect her child after her death. She hid her wand and stepped defiantly in front of the crib that obviously interested Voldemort more than she did. She held herself proudly, but couldn't help herself but plead for the life of her child.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" Yes, she had taken steps to ensure he would survive, but the human race wasn't perfect, and she could have made a mistake. What she did had never been tested in real conditions, and she had hoped it would never be needed.

"Stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now!" Voldemort ordered coldly. Lily's analyzing side wondered a second just why he tried to spare her when he just killed James, but it was known he was mad, so there probably was no reason at all.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -" The rest of her person begged again, putting in place the last piece of the protection. "Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy… "

"Lord Voldemort has no mercy. Mercy is for the weak!" was the only answer her pleads got. "You are pitiful and stupid to think I would grant you your wish when you opposed me for so long!" he gloated. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The green light shot point blank toward her and, like wind a candle, extinguished her life in a second, tearing her soul out of her body. The red-haired woman, who strangely wore a ghost of a smile on her face, fell limply on the floor, her green eyes wide open.

The baby, partly unaware of what just happened, clapped his hands and giggled. "Pretty lights! Again, Momma, again!" When his Mum, didn't rise up, he frowned. "Mummy?" Hearing no answer, the baby began to cry, while the dark man came carefully closer to the crib.

"So you are the one fated to defeat me? Such a pity Dumbledore has to rely on babies to win this war for him!" He raised his wand, and uttered the words which would be his downfall again. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

A translucent shield rose from the ground where Lily had drawn her runes and stopped the curse. For a short but seemingly long moment, the emerald green killing curse appeared blocked by the protection, and then the spell slowly progressed. Seeing this, the scarred baby's magic reacted, and in a spectacular show of accidental magic, came to help the shield. With the added magic, the shield managed to absorb the malevolent intent of the Unforgivable, letting nonetheless pass a part of the spell which impacted on Harry's forehead, leaving behind a lightning-shaped cut. Powered by the second part of Lily's work, the barrier then collected the evil intent left behind and, analyzing what it was meant to do, tried to reproduce it.

Thus, in front of Voldemort's eyes, it seemed that the shield only absorbed the spell, until the translucent protection took a bright green shade, before shooting toward him. Too shocked, he didn't have enough time to avoid the ward. Unfortunately, even sustained by Harry's magic, most of its power had been used to stop the Killing Curse, and so the return-to-sender – as Lily called it – didn't really kill Voldemort. It expulsed his soul out of his body, which would have killed almost anyone (except that he did take precautions against exorcism, a side-effect of one of his numerous rituals), but didn't send the soul on the other plane. Instead, Voldemort's soul took the opportunity to flee before someone came when he was in this weakened state, and left the room, since, without a body, he couldn't kill the boy.

Said boy, exhausted not only by the overuse of his own magic to protect his life, but also by the events he still didn't fully comprehend, was asleep in his cot, unaware that his house was falling apart around him.

oO – DLM – Oo

A day later, while his godfather got himself landed in Azkaban for the next years for a crime he didn't commit, while the other Marauder who could have took him saw himself unable to take care of his best-friend's son because of prejudice, while the Death Eaters plotted revenge and the rest of the magical world celebrated his name, Harry Potter opened his eyes for the first time at 4 Privet Drive, in Surrey.

_Long live to the Boy-Who-Lived!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. If it did, I think you'd know. The only thing that's mine is the idea. The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Here's the second chapter. Thanks to everyone who read me, and more particularly to **_mainstreet52_**, _**lilgenious**_, **_hgfanforever_**, _**mikalik87** _and **_god of all _**for their reviews.

I'd also like to thank _**Arwinia**_, who bravely accepted to be my beta.

Don't forget to leave a review!

**Chapter 2:****  
**

Exactly a year had passed since that tragic night and the novelty of the presence of the young Harry Potter, now 2 years old, at 4 Privet Drive, had finally worn off. Everyone knew how generous it was of the Dursleys to take their poor orphaned nephew in after his parents died in horrible but mysterious circumstances, especially since they received no money for raising him.

It had been a difficult year for everyone. Firstly, Petunia and Vernon had to cancel their plans to go on holidays to make sure they had enough money to acre for the new baby, because he had nothing but the clothes on his back when he was left on their porch.

Then they had to deal with the fact that the boy was clearly traumatized by last Halloween night's experience. And what were you supposed to do with a traumatized toddler who had seen his mother die? If he had been older, they could have given him counseling sessions, but as it was, he barely understood the fact that he would never see his mother again. And he had nightmares. All the time. He woke up screaming in the middle of the night and it took hours to make him stop crying.

And there was the fact that, as Dumbledore said in his letter (who left a baby on a porch with only a letter and a blanket on a bloody November night anyway? And that said letter wasn't even all that informative! "_Dear Mrs. Dursley, I'm sorry to tell you your sister has just died. Here is her son. As his only family, I entrust his care to you. Expect however magical outburst, since the boy is a wizard. Cordially, A. Dumbledore". _It was all he had to say!?), the boy was clearly magical. At two, he already had had many such outbursts, especially during his nightmares, when his magic reacted to his terror and often exploded all the objects made of glass in the room he was in.

No, the boy was not at all like his mother who only had a few of those incidents, which were also considerably less violent than their nephew's. How were they, mere Muggles, supposed to deal with a magical child as active as Harry?

But they tried. They spent hours at night with him to explain him that his mother and his father were in heaven and looked upon him, that they loved him. It didn't work. Until one day, scared, the boy took refuge in the cupboard under the stairs and Dudley, three years old, fell and hurt himself quite badly, scaring his parents who took him to the hospital, forgetting little Harry behind in their haste.

Except that they came back late and very tired. Vernon closed the doors, Petunia put Dudley to sleep in his room and they didn't think to check on Harry in the bedroom next door before dropping like dead masses on their bed, exhausted by their previous sleep-deprived nights.

For once, they woke up on a Saturday after 9 hours, and realized they had slept an entire night without interruption. Thinking their efforts might have paid off, they opened the door to Harry's room, only to find the crib empty. After several minutes panic-filled, they found the little boy's refuge.

"Vernon!" Petunia screamed as she opened the door of the little cupboard under the stairs, which was the last place she would have thought of. "I found him! You'll never guess where he went!"

Heavy footsteps hurried down the stairs as Vernon replied. "Finally! Seriously, making us worry like that, it's not normal!"

"Oh, come off it, he's barely two years old. You really think he can control himself enough to tell us where he will go? He's only a baby. Maybe he's not _ours_ but he wasn't with his abnormal family for long, so we just might have a chance to make him normal! It's worth a try, at least!"

"I know dear." Vernon sighed as he stopped down the stairs besides his wife. "So, where was he?"

The only response he got from her was an amused look down in the little placard they usually used to store their cleaning supplies. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in astonishment.

"He went in our cupboard? But how did he end up here exactly? I know we left him in his room on the first floor. Granted, the door wasn't locked or anything, but still…"

"Babies wander Vernon. It's a fact." Petunia teased him. "Remember how Dudley ended up on the sofa when we left him for only a minute in the kitchen? Or when we found him at the other side of the park after looking away for a minute? They just never stand still."

Vernon chuckled. "Alright, alright, I see your point. But we can't let him stay in this place, it's dangerous for him. We're already lucky enough he didn't put one of your cleaning produces in his mouth yesterday. Imagine what everyone would think if they found out our charge got sick because he ate soap or something else! What his _crew_ would do if they ever found out?"

The result was impressive on Petunia's face as understanding of what could have happened dawned on her. She passed in less than thirty second from light amusement at the black hair baby's antics to deep horror.

She quickly jerked the baby from the cupboard floor where he was resting, waking him up roughly and proceeded to scold him, telling him that he must not return to the cupboard, that it was very dangerous for him and everyone else multiple times.

The almond-shaped vivid green eyes blinked sleepily at her, firstly very confused then sort of afraid. After all, his aunt had never been angry at him before. Add to this the fact that he couldn't understand what was said except that she sounded really angry at him for a reason he didn't know, and it was really no wonder that he started to cry and wail.

It took Petunia about half an hour to calm him, and by the end she had a monstrous headache, especially given that Harry's screams had woken up Dudley, who had nicely began to express his support to his cousin by trying to destroy everyone's eardrums as well.

Annoyed by the boy's behavior, she denied him his dessert, thinking that he didn't need more sugar in his body, and that she was too tired to deal with a sugar-high baby all day.

Even though she realized that she had gotten more sleep that night than ever since she gave birth to Dudley, at first because of Dudley, and then because of Harry who woke them up each and every night since he arrived in their home six months ago.

The day couldn't end quickly enough. Finally, they put Dudley and Harry in their bed, and sighing, knowing they were in for another rough night, they went to sleep shortly after the kids.

And just like they knew they would, Petunia woke up at around 3 a.m., disturbed by screams coming from further down the corridor. She sat up on her bed, and after rubbing her eyes sleepily and giving one last envious glance toward her husband who had, quite surprisingly, managed to stay asleep, and the warm bed, put her slippers on and went toward the sound.

However, it turned out it wasn't Harry, as she expected, but Dudley who had had a nightmare. She lovingly reassured him, before putting him back to sleep. He fell back asleep the moment his head touched his pillow, just as she had expected. She stayed in the room a few more minutes, to ensure he had no problems, and then exited quietly the bedroom.

Since she was there, and awake, it would do no harm if she profited of the occasion to check on her nephew. Slowly, she opened the door, taking care of making no sound that might wake him, and entered the room.

As she approached the crib, it became evident that Harry wasn't in his room. Forcing herself to stay calm, and telling herself that being a baby, he probably hadn't understood her concerns earlier, she tiptoed down the stairs.

Opening the door of the lad's hiding place, she found him curled in a blanket she knew was supposed to be in his bed on the floor, his thumb in his mouth. As much as she wanted to be angry with the boy, the sight was too endearing to do anything but smile.

She scooped the boy up in her arms and proceeded to take him back up in his bed, because a baby really shouldn't sleep on the floor.

Of course, Harry didn't wake up when she did, nor did he when she climbed the stairs. No, he only woke up once she put him back in his crib.

"Aun' Tunia? What's happenin'?" slurred the black-haired baby, still half-asleep.

"Shh, it's nothing Harry. Just go back to sleep." whispered Petunia. She began to walk out of the room, but then curiosity filled her mind and she went back.

"Harry, what were you doing downstairs?" she asked.

Apparently understanding what she wanted, Harry answered sleepily. "It's dark and safe. It's closed…" He yawned. "Like't there."

"Ah, I… see." said Petunia as she realized. "You can go back to sleep now."

oO – DLM – Oo

After this discussion, Petunia talked to Vernon, who saw the benefit of the child having somewhere he could feel safe and actually sleep. The next week-end, they removed all the items stored in the cupboard, cleaned it, put a lamp on one of shelves and a mattress on the floor with a soft little pillow.

They also put some of the boy's toys on the shelves, before introducing him to his new _provisory _resting place.

Maybe it was a little… _twisted_… to make a child sleep in there, but it was where he wanted to be, and also where he happened to sleep the best. Because Petunia wasn't the only one often exhausted after his nightmares.

Anyway, Harry now slept in the cupboard under the stairs and very rarely had nightmares anymore. Unfortunately, when he did, he was too far and too isolated from the adult's room to be heard, and so he had to deal with them alone.

And if at the beginning, Petunia always leaned to kiss him goodnight, after a few weeks she stopped, claiming that it was too hard on her back.

Also, though Harry conserved his room next to Dudley's, he used it less and less, and since they had put his crib away, he couldn't use it as a resting place anymore. It was only used to store his toys at first, then Dudley put his there too, and the room slowly became a play-room.

Unfortunately for Harry, it was only the beginning of the degradation of his treatment at the Dursleys.

The first one to begin this was Dudley, who seeing he obviously had things, privileges Harry did not, like a room and more toys, started to mock Harry on it, but only when his parents were not looking. He took Harry's stuff from him, and refused to give it back, often breaking it and accusing Harry. He accused him of breaking his own toys too.

Of course, even if Petunia and Vernon were a little suspicious at the beginning, especially since Harry reported to them that Dudley took his toys, Dudley took care of leaving no evidence that could trace the mischief back to him. And so, they began to punish Harry for not taking care of his own things, for breaking Dudley's or random objects in the house.

At first, the punishments were normal, like being sent back to his room, or in this case his cupboard, or not allowed sweets or dinner. But since Dudley, the real culprit, was never punished, he went on accusing Harry of every little bad thing he did, thus leading to a bad reputation for Harry in the 4 Privet Drive.

After sometime, Petunia and Vernon decided that since Harry wasn't behaving, they would take his toys from him, and because they were in his ex-bedroom, they didn't allow him to go back there anymore either.

For Harry, who wasn't very old at the time, all this happened too fast to really comprehend. He couldn't understand why he wasn't loved anymore by his new family. Because that's what was happening. Slowly, but surely, Petunia renounced to her dreams of raising him to be a proper, _normal_ citizen of Britain like they were, and only saw him as freakish.

Anyway, she should have seen it from the beginning. She ought to have known better. Really, she thought, what kind of child preferred to grow up in a cupboard than in a proper bedroom?

And so she began to resent the child, because she took him in her family, she gave him a home, despite how difficult it had been for them to adapt, and a chance to be normal, and that was how she was repaid for her kindness? How they were repaid for their kindness? She would not have his freakiness infecting her family more than it already did, no. She would make it clear that they weren't family for him, that he shouldn't consider them as anything he could return to, something he could count on. Because if he did, who could tell what shady business he would tarnish her family with?

Vernon, who had always resented his wife's sister and her husband for being better than they could ever be, despite how abnormal they were, chose to follow his wife's behavior; glad she had finally come to her sense. Deep, very very deep inside of him, he knew that what he felt what jealousy and that it was bad, but he pushed these feelings away as hard as he could.

oO – DLM – Oo

It had been a long year for the Imprints of Charlus and Dorea Potter stranded as they were in Potter Manor. Of course, being dead, the time passed very differently for them, especially since they didn't need to sleep, eat or do anything even remotely human, and also because they were alone, without anyone living to ground them to a partially normal schedule. To them, what felt like a day could appear to be a week, and what was a week could seem an hour.

Anyway, even with time passing as strangely as it did, they could still tell that it had been a long time since the Potters had left the Manor. A winter and then a winter had passed, so slow and yet so strangely fleeting. Even if they had had no news of their family, they suspected something happened, because Lily and James had never returned there, even though Dorea had heard that the Cottage was a temporary setting.

The good side of this, though (because there was one, as small as it was), was that Charlus had had time to try and remember as much as he could about what he had read about Necromancers and their powers in the Book. He could only use his memories, because as an Imprint, he could unfortunately not touch physical objects and so had to rely on what he already read.

The most important points he had had the chance to remember were about their grandson's powers and, if it worked out like he hoped it would, a way to see him even if he wasn't coming to them.

From what he could remember, which wasn't that much for now, a Necromancer principally relied on rituals to invoke their powers, except of course for the fact that they could see Imprints, and that often, ghosts preferred them to ordinary wizards. He didn't know any of those rituals, though, so he probably wouldn't be that much help on this point.

He knew, however, that a Necromancer didn't need any ritual to See. Their Sight was, from what he understood, perhaps their more important and beautiful gift. Any Necromancer could see Imprints, just like any wizard could see ghosts, but unlike wizard, they could learn to See more than that, and all it took was training. If they concentrated and trained enough, they were rumored to be able to look into oneself and See their true souls.

This 'power' was only the extension of their natural ability, because it was the soul, and the magical power, of course, that determined the Imprints. And since soul and magic were deeply intertwined, they might also be able to discern one magical power and abilities.

They couldn't see more than the shadow of their own souls, of course, because more knowledge was forbidden, but they could sometimes feel and see their own magic, a feat which enabled them to manipulate it much more easily than others. The majority of the powerful and renowned Wandless Mages had in fact been Necromancers, either in disguise or openly. Such ability, though hard to learn because always evolving, was said to be a huge benefit in powerful rituals, like summoning old spirits.

If James and Lily hadn't moved away from the Manor, Charlus could and would have told Harry this as soon as he knew the boy would understand, and then he and his wife would have overseen the child's attempts. Plus, his parents wouldn't have been far and could help if needed. However, they had, and so the Imprint's plans were now pointless.

The problem was now how to get these informations to their grandson, when they couldn't leave where they were, and the boy obviously wasn't going to come there for what appeared to be a long while.

While Charlus was once again searching through his memories and hoping to remember something that would help them find a solution, the answer, or at least the beginning of one, came surprisingly (or rather unsurprisingly considering in which house she had been sorted) from Dorea.

Being a Black, one of the Dark families, she had grown up hearing about and practicing the Old Ways, which were a set of traditions about magic, once used by everyone, and nowadays only practiced by a handful of families. They dictated a way of life, and consisted mainly in a set of what could be called rituals that were to be abided by on specials dates where the magic was most powerful.

She suggested that if they were to find a way to contact him somehow, it would be best to do it on Samhain, which was considered as the best night to invoke spirits, to speak to the dead and contact other planes. It was the night where the veil between the two worlds was at its thinnest, and so manifestations of other worlds were not considered unusual on this day.

Unfortunately, as much as they wanted, they found nothing else that could help them manifest somewhere else than the place they were bound to. However, Charlus remembered that the place to which they were bound could be changed. The act in itself wasn't complicated, but they needed a Necromancer, or in this case, Harry, to do it. He supposed it might be possible for him to bind them to himself, so they could follow him wherever he went.

They knew they would have to wait until the 31st of October anyway for any of their plan. Luckily, like ghosts, Imprints could feel that day, because it was the one where they were at their strongest. For instance, a ghost might be able to truly influence their surroundings, and a live human could sometimes catch glimpses of an Imprint in their homes. Sometimes, even non-magical people could see their dead ones.

They decided, since they didn't know what to do the first Halloween after the Potters leaved, that they would try and concentrate on Harry for the whole day, and on how they wanted to be with him, in the hope that they might somehow find themselves closer to him. If it didn't work, well, they would just have to wait until the next year, and so on till it either worked or Harry came to them.

oO – DLM – Oo

It was Halloween night in Surrey, and Harry knew that kids in the neighborhood had been waiting for this for weeks. He didn't really knew what it was at first, because he was so young, but the other kids explained to him that it was a night where you were given free sweets by everyone. Being a kid, it almost sounded like paradise to him. Especially since his Aunt Petunia never allowed him to eat sugary treats.

"I won't have you destroying my house and roaming everywhere with no one to control you like last time. I swore you'd never eat anything sugary while you're here as long as I'm alive, and since I am, that means no dessert/sweets/Halloween for you." Aunt Petunia repeated this speech every time Harry asked for something. Of course, he didn't ask very often, because his Aunt face when she told him this was always scary.

That didn't stop him from wondering why she wouldn't allow him any sugar. So, like the hero in the cartoons Dudley loved, he investigated. It wasn't easy, but Harry managed to discover the truth. Apparently, for Easter, he had been given a lot of chocolate. Of course, it was way too much for him to eat at once, but he did take some. Unfortunately, after this, he had got in a lot of mischief, the most important being repainting the house in maroon. He also had (to his greatest shame) ran naked in the street for all the neighbors to see.

After hearing about this, Harry blushed, and decided that it was better to forget about this and to never talk about it again. His aunt had to be protecting him by not letting him participate in the sweets' chase, and since the last thing he wanted was a repeat of Easter, he chose not to go.

Instead, he stayed home, alone, because Petunia couldn't let her Duddykins walk alone in Privet Drive since he was still young, and Vernon came along because it would make him look good with the neighbors. They had told him they wouldn't come back for quite a few hours, and that as long as he tidied up after himself, he could do whatever he wanted, and he could eat up to three biscuits if he was hungry (more and she feared he wouldn't sleep or got sick).

And so Harry settled himself on the sofa with his biscuits and a glass of milk, and he chose one of his cousin's tapes to watch. It was going to be a good night.

oO – DLM – Oo

"So this is the night, right? Are you sure it's going to work?" asked one of the two only inhabitants of Potter Manor to his counterpart.

"Once again, no, I'm not sure this will work, but it's our best shot so far. Unless you wanna sit down and spend another year to try to find another solution. I told you that this hypothesis was only based on what I learnt of this day when I was younger and a lot of guesswork. Of course, if you have any better ideas, I'm listening…" said the brown-haired man's wife, glaring at him.

"Hmm, no, I don't. Just trying to make sure, you know, that everything's okay, and all..." Charlus stammered this out, repentant and embarrassed to have to be admonished by his wife.

"Good." Dorea said as she smirked at her husband. "Let's do this now."

They were standing face to face in their living-room, holding hands and smiling at each other. They concentrated on the little black-haired baby they remembered from the previous year, on what he meant to them and how much they wanted to see him again, to explain everything he surely didn't understand about his powers to him. They didn't know for how long they stood there, unmoving, and unblinkingly looking in each other eyes. It could have been the whole day or just a few minutes, but time passed by so differently to them that they couldn't have said.

Finally, something happened, just when Dorea began to have doubts about her theory. Slowly, their surrounding began to blur around them, from the further end of the room to the point the other in front of them dissolved in a white-grey mist.

They closed their eyes, and hoping everything would go right, concentrated that harder on the green-eyed boy that occupied their thoughts for every of their aware moments.

After what felt like an eternity, and so probably was only a few moments, they felt sort of stopped, and knew they were where they were meant to. And as they opened their eyes, they saw the black-haired boy they remembered, just older and dressed differently, in a place they didn't recognize. The boy was alone, and certainly not in the Godric's Hallow cottage.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?"


	3. Chapter 3

******Disclaimer:** Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. If it did, I think you'd know. The only thing that's mine is the idea. The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Thanks to **god of all**, **mainstreet52 **and **Shadowdude333 **for your reviews (it makes me happy ^^). As for the plot with the Dursley, well I don't think Harry will run away, at least I hadn't even thought of it so... But you never know. I've got a few ideas for Hogwarts and a few events before but that's all I know for now.

Thanks to my beta, **Arwinia**, who try to correct all of my mistakes (so if there's a problem, it's not my fault :p).

**Chapter 3:**

Dorea Potter had been dreaming (well, as much as a dead could) about their reunion with their grandson since the day he had left. It was always emotion-filled, with tears and joy, because Harry couldn't be anything but happy to see them again, he would know exactly who they were as soon as he saw them, and everything would be good and even more than good. In some 'nightmares', he reproached them to never have visited him, and was angry for the long wait till they came at last, but those were rare.

_For a Ravenclaw, you could have done better than this! _She thought to herself. _I should have known this would happen._ She sighed, disappointed in herself, because, looking back on it, her mistake would have been so easy to avoid. But she had been so caught up in what she wanted to see, what she expected to find, that she forgot Harry was only a year old the last time they saw him, and that he couldn't possibly remember them.

Anyway, with the kind of luck her husband, and latter their son had had, she totally should have expected this situation.

oO – DLM – Oo

Harry, proud to be trusted enough to be let stay alone in the house had put away his empty glass after finishing his milk and had sank deeply in the sofa under a soft white blanket in front of the TV. The cartoon wasn't one of those Harry preferred, but Dudley never watched these, so Harry had to do with the ones his relatives bought for his cousin for his third birthday. It was better than being locked up in his cupboard anyway, so Harry wasn't about to complain.

Suddenly, just as the cartoon was about to get finally interesting, two people appeared in the middle of the room, in front of him. His eyes widened, his mouth opened and he screamed (it was absolutely not a girly scream, no. It was very… manly, of course.) He hid quickly under the cover and tried not to move so as not to get noticed.

Finally, under the bemused look of the intruders, his curiosity won on his fear, and Harry took a quick peak from under his shelter. Seeing that the strangers had not moved or done anything, he set the blanket aside, and glaring at them with the full power of the death-glare a two year-old could master, interrogated them.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

The couple standing in the living-room looked strangely startled at these questions, noticed Harry. And yet it wasn't even strange ones, just normal and responsible questions you ask when you find yourself with unknown people apparently breaking into your home. They shouldn't have looked so surprised because they had been here for quite a few minutes already and had thus already seen that he was in the sofa, no matter how hidden he was.

The black-haired man, frowning, took a step forward and, after a quick glance to his right at the woman with him, introduced himself. His name was Charlus Potter and according to him he was his grandfather on his father's side of the family. Seeing as nobody talked about them, he couldn't know whether it was true or not.

"If you're a thief you don't have to pretend to be family you know. That's a bit stupid because I know I don't have grandparents." Harry said, squinting his eyes.

"Everyone have grandparents, it's just that you didn't know it till now" smiled the man. "And we're not thieves" he added, almost like an afterthought.

"Really? Then why weren't you with me before then, if you're my grandparents?" asked the small boy, not trusting of these strangers but wanting to, because if they told him the truth then that made them _family_. And one can never have enough of those.

"Yes, really. I'm Dorea, your grandmother" Said gently the short black-haired lady, letting go of the man's hand and slowly coming toward him. "As for your other question, it's a bit… complicated."

"Compel… Compil… What does that mean?" Harry wondered, frowning.

"It means that you'd better sit down, because it is sort of hard to explain." The woman replied calmly.

"Okay" Harry muttered as he did so. "Now why is it hard?"

The blue-eyed lady smiled, but it wasn't a smile like Harry was used to see or give, no, this one was a sad smile, and he could nearly feel his heart ache for whatever this woman had suffered through. She knelt in front of Harry and laid her hand on his cheek. He shuddered. The hand was soft, but instead of the warmth of human flesh he expected, it was cold, like she had put it in the snow for a long time and just got it out. She stood and went to grab the remote control, but her hand went right through it. Harry gaped at her in disbelief.

"What… What just happened? How…?"

"You, Harry, are a very special boy. More than a wizard, you are…" said the man, looking proud.

"A wizard? Like a witch you mean, with magic and all? It doesn't exist you know." The green-eyed boy interrupted, looking at him with pity.

"Of course magic exists." The man got indignant. "Haven't your parents told you? You've surely seen them do magic by now, haven't you? Where are they anyway?"

"They're dead." Harry deadpanned. "Shouldn't you know that? And if magic exist, then I want proof!"

"What!? James and Lily are dead? But what happened?" Dorea cried out.

"You're not very well infro – infomr – informed for someone who says she's family." Harry frowned. "It's been a year I think. They had a car crash and I had nothing, and they gave me to my aunt and uncle."

"A car crash? But they didn't have a car, at least not that I can remember… I don't think they even knew how to drive…" Charlus wondered aloud, worried about all the unknowns in the story Harry just told them. He shared a glance with his wife who looked just as worried as he did, and began to explain what they knew to the kid.

"So you're living with your mother's sister… What was her name…? Something about a flower… Petunia I believe? Am I right?" At Harry's curious nod, he continued. "As for a proof, how else do you explain the fact that you saw us apparate in front of you or that Dorea's hand went right through the table when it's clear we're here, if not for magic?"

"I could be dreaming" Harry suggested.

"Do you really think you are dreaming, Harry?" Dorea asked gently.

Harry frowned at this, and he had to admit that he didn't. It was strange, but if magic existed and he was really a wizard, well that was so cool. He couldn't wait to learn it. He had so many questions about his supposed powers to ask, but it would have to wait until his grandparents (he had grandparents! How cool was that? Even Dudley didn't have those!) had finished telling him what they wanted to. A small smile slowly appeared on his face, making his emerald eyes sparkle, a smile mirrored by both Imprints in front of him.

He shook his head slowly, choosing to trust these people rather than her aunt, who, he had to admit, didn't really like him. But maybe she wanted to protect him?

"So, magic?" Harry asked.

"Yes, magic" smirked Charlus. "There's a whole hidden community of wizards and witches living in England, and of course in others countries as well. As wizards, we use our wands, which we get when we begin our magical education, usually around 11, when a child's magical core has stabilized enough they don't do as much accidental magic…" At Harry curious look, he explained. "People who possess magic tend to express it rather violently and visibly when they're young. A bit like a baby who don't know how to speak will scream when he want something."

"I think I did some… I remember objects breaking when I was scared and sometimes the room lit itself up…" Harry mused.

"Really? It's really impressive to do it so often!" Dorea gushed. "And so young too. You're going to be a powerful wizard, dear, I just know it!"

Harry blushed and ducked his head to hide it. He quickly gestured them to continue their explanations, which they did, smirking at his discomfort.

"Where was I…? Ah yes. So these communities are pretty much completely isolated from the Muggle or non-magical world, except for the occasional muggleborn students who arrive each year. Unfortunately for them, they're mostly discriminated against by the wizards living in the Magical world since their birth. Do you understand everything so far?" Charlus asked, concerned by the fact his grandson wasn't aware of his heritage.

Harry nodded. "What does this have to do with my parents, sir? You said they were wizards too… Didn't they like the muggleborns?" He wasn't sure he liked the idea of his parents being like the Dursleys, thinking themselves better than other people.

"James and Lily?" Dorea said in disbelief. "They'd never, that would be hypocritical of them." At Harry confused look, she explained to him what hypocritical meant. "Your mother was one of those muggleborn. We didn't meet her personally but we heard that she was brilliant from your father quite a lot of time. No, what you must understand is that those wizards who think themselves better than others, well they did pretty bad things to get their point across. Your parents were against them, and we know they have been in a lot of danger because of it. It's why I think they didn't die in a car crash. Well that and the fact that they didn't know how to drive." She added after a few seconds.

Harry just stared at them, without saying anything for a few minutes, the time for him to apprehend what he just learnt. It went against everything he had been told, but it made so much more sense than the 'don't ask' of his aunt and the 'I don't know' grunted by his uncle. He licked his lips anxiously. "You mean their death… wasn't an accident? That someone wanted to…"he gulped" kill them?"

They smiled sadly. "I'm afraid it wasn't. You see, these wizards were led by another wizard, much more powerful, a Dark Lord by the name of Voldemort and he wanted to kill your parents. From your situation I can guess he unfortunately managed to, and for some reason you are still here… Maybe you weren't there?" Charlus wondered. "We don't know much about what happened other than guesswork, so I don't think we'll be able to help you on this subject."

Harry wiped his wet eyes before he confessed about the green light in his nightmares and the sharp pain he felt every time he dreamt about it. Dorea came closer, and with her cold hand lifted the hair hiding the small lightning bolt scar.

"It looks like a curse scar to me. You don't think…"the black-haired woman asked her husband. "A green light, it can only be…" At her husband grim look, she gasped and took Harry in her arms, distressed. The embrace was cold but yet it felt warm to Harry and he relished in it.

Confused, Harry asked the question that had been on his mind since he had seen her pass through the TV remote. "What are you exactly? Because, magic or no magic, I didn't think you could go through objects as if they weren't there if you are human."

"It goes with your previous question. But you're right, we're not human. Or at least not anymore. We, hmm, died a few years ago, and that's why we didn't meet your mother officially. That's why we couldn't look after you."

At this, Harry laughed. "You seriously want me to believe you're dead? I understand for the magic but if you're dead, then you can't be here!" However his laughter died as soon as his grandmother took his little hand and put it where her heart was and he didn't feel any heartbeat. He jerked his hand away, looking at them in wonder and a hint of fear. "You really are dead then. But how are you here?" he asked.

Dorea looked sadly at him. "I'm so sorry to burden you with this. But as my husband was trying to say earlier, you are not only a powerful wizard, or at least going to be one, but you also are a Necromancer. It is thank to this power that you are able to see and interact with us. We are what are called Imprints, we are an impression of a wizard soul and magic, created at their death. We linger here for some time, and disappear when the leftover magic has been absorbed in the surroundings. That's why we tend to disappear much more easily and quickly in non-magical surroundings than in families' homes."

Harry looked gobsmacked, and he really didn't know what to say. He couldn't be that powerful, could he? He was just a normal kid, just a wizard apparently. A somewhat awkward silence settled in the room, only broken by the Dong of the clock, telling Harry he'd better put what he used away before the Dursleys came back from their sweets' chase. In silence, he got up and rushed to take the video tape out and put it back where it belonged. He then sat again in the sofa, because his Aunt Petunia had told him to wait for them to come back.

"Well, I think I can't tell you didn't have a good reason not to raise me up" Harry chuckled weakly. "But it doesn't explain why I never saw you before today."

"We couldn't come here, and if we are here today, it's only because we got lucky. We died in our home, and so are bound to stay in this one place. We are here only because it Samhain, and it allow us to move away from there, and it was difficult, too." Charlus explained. "We didn't know if it would work, but we hoped. The good point is that we're here now, isn't it?"

Harry grinned and nodded. From there, he answered their questions about his life so far at the Dursleys. They had been scandalized at first when they learnt that he slept in the cupboard under the stairs, but had understood and sympathized when he explained that he couldn't sleep in the room he had been given. His aunt tried sometimes to get him to sleep there, but either he didn't sleep or he went back in the cupboard. He told them a bit about what he did the last year, well, what he could remember, which, admittedly, wasn't much.

He asked a bit about his parents, what they looked like, what they were like, and so on… Dorea and Charlus were, of course, happy to comply with his wishes. Harry was happy, because these new relatives were focused on him and only him, when his aunt and his uncle looked after Dudley and only after making sure he was okay they would come to ensure he was okay. It didn't bother him; because they had been nice enough to take him in and that it was normal they preferred to look after their son than their nephew. But Dorea and Charlus were _his_ grandparents, and they wanted to know him and not Dudley. It was new for Harry, and he found that he rather liked it.

Around 10 o'clock, he heard the door open itself, and he knew the Dursleys were home, and that it was time for him to introduce his grandparents to his aunt. With a bright smile, he stood up and went to show his aunt that he had been good and hadn't done any damage to the house and that he could behave himself. She greeted him with a colder smile, but a smile nonetheless, before following him to the living-room where the two Imprints were.

However, she just took a look at the room, said he did okay, and ignoring the two people smirking at her and waving at Harry, went back to help Dudley put his new sweets away. As Harry gaped at her retreating back, the two dead came closer and put a hand on his shoulders.

"Remember when we told you you were a Necromancer?" Charlus said softly.

"Of course" Harry scoffed. How could he forget?

"We told you that you could interact with us because of what you were, right?" He asked rhetorically, not minding the interruption. "Well, I guess we may have forgotten to tell you that other people can't see us. To them, we don't even exist. And you can't tell them that we do."

"But why?" Harry asked sorrowfully. He wondered why he couldn't introduce his new old family to his caretakers. Maybe they didn't trust him enough to allow him to do so, he thought, frowning.

As if she was reading his thoughts, Dorea's face softened. "It's not that we don't trust you, dear, it's just that we don't want you to get hurt or whatever. We'll just be your best-kept secret, okay. It'll be like a game." She smiled down at him, happy to see him nod joyfully at her proposition. "And the rules say that you can't tell anyone about us or anyone you might see who is like us."

Since her grandson was so young, she supposed it was best to introduce him to his power by telling him it was a secret game just between them rather than by explaining in how much danger he would be if he couldn't control his power at least a bit. There would be less risk of him slipping up that way.

oO – DLM – Oo

Meanwhile, Petunia, after hiding most of her son's candy so as not to let him get sick by eating it all at once like she knew he would if someone didn't stop him, went to remove the make-up she applied to make him look like a zombie. If at first, Dudley had protested quite a lot about "looking like a girl", when he saw the result of his twenty minutes of suffering, he was sure he had the best disguise of all his friends.

He truly looked like a monster out of a bad movie, and he would go well with his friend Piers' demon and Ethan's (who was the youngest son of one of his mother's friends) exorcist. They were so going to win the prize for the most candies' won and the best disguises (those prizes just meant more candy, but who were they to say now to sugar delights?) organized in Privet Drive.

Petunia, knowing they would be out for a while, had thought of bringing coats for the children, and they were very useful after the first hour, because Dudley seemed to think that a zombie had to wear the fewest clothes as possible, even if the temperature was near 5°… She, of course, wasn't disguised as a monster, because it would be improper, but she stayed with the boys all the time, taking enough photos to fill three albums.

She had left the boy, Harry, at home, alone, because she didn't want him getting any idea, since he possessed this freakish power after all. With Vernon's help, she tried to keep him as normal as possible, but even at two years old, he already was different than their perfect little Dudley.

Firstly, there was the fact that he slept in the cupboard. What kind of child did that? It had been supposed to be a temporary solution to his nightmare, but he had now been sleeping in it for a year and they still couldn't get him to sleep in a normal room. When they tried he just disappeared back under the stairs. It was frustrating, and after many failed attempts they just stopped to try and hoped he would soon grow out of this mania. But until then, Petunia dreaded what would happen should the neighbors discover this fact.

Then there was his magic. Since it originally manifested itself after or during a nightmare, they had thought the incidents would just stop at the same time. And it worked, for a time. A really short time. And then it had happened again, and again, more and more often. And that too was difficult to hide. Because when these things happened during the night, there weren't many people here to see it, and those who did could be easily persuaded it was a trick of light or their imagination. Now they happened during the day, when everyone could see and when it was so much more difficult to find an excuse.

It usually happened inside the house, when Harry wanted something it came to him, or things that were cold suddenly were warm again… But once in a while, it also happened outside, where it was impossible to hide or explain those strange occurrences. It was why she preferred to have him stay indoors or at least in their garden where she could see him.

She sighed. Why did she agree to take the boy in when he was so much trouble? She should have just sent him off somewhere, anywhere else than in her home. But it was too late for that now, and they'd have to try and live as normally as possible. She shook those thoughts out of her head and smiled down at her son, whose face was finally clean.

"Go put on you pajama honey, I'll come kiss you goodnight soon." She shooed her son toward his door, smiling more widely as he grunted his agreement and ran toward his bed.

She went back down and called her nephew to tell him to go brush his teeth before going to bed. He agreed surprisingly quickly for a little boy and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. If he was up to something, he would regret it…

oO – DLM – Oo

When he heard his aunt Petunia come down the stairs, Harry swiftly shut up and put his finger on his mouth before shushing the two adults with him. He whispered that he would come back and run up the stairs under the exasperate looks of a living woman and a dead couple. The woman followed him, sighing. Two minutes later, Harry hurried down the stairs, having waved a cheery good night to his aunt who looked like she had swallowed a lemon.

Gesturing to his new family to come with him, he went in his cupboard and wrapped himself tightly in his big blanket. It was strange to see other people with him in his little room, Harry thought. Especially when they couldn't be wholly here, seeing as there wasn't that much room for someone else than him. To him, it looked like he had two half bodies with him. It took some time to get used to, but it wasn't that bad.

"So, I guess that you have more questions." Dorea's head smirked at him.

"Yes," Harry answered. "I do. I'd like you to tell me what a Necromancer is, exactly. Because you said I was one and that was how I could see you, so that's cool, but else I don't know. Do I get any super powers?" He asked. It would be awesome to have powers like the heroes in Dudley cartoons.

"Well, I wouldn't say super powers, but being a wizard, you'll be able to do some neat tricks once you have a wand, and being a Necromancer, you'll be able to do even more. But I'm afraid we don't know much about your powers, because Necromancers are very uncommon and secretive, and so there wasn't that much about your powers in the Family's Book. There's also the fact that the day will end soon, so we don't have a lot of time to explain what we do know to you." Charlus tried to explain.

"You're going to leave me? But… but you can't! I only just got you!" Harry had never thrown a tantrum, but he was at his closest yet.

"We don't have a choice, darling. Gods know we'd like to stay with you all the time, but we _can't._ It was already so difficult to get here, because we're not supposed to be able to move from the place we died in. We only have this one day, and there are only a couple of hours left even though we left as soon as it began. But there's a big chance that if you manage to learn to use your powers, we'll be able to come when you call us. So here's what we want you to do for us…"

Dorea then proceeded to tell Harry what they knew about his powers. She told him how she thought he should practice, how to access his powers. Harry was enraptured by her speech, and the perspective of seeing them before the next Halloween was enough for him to promise himself he would do everything he could to manage this and make his family proud. She reminded him not to tell anyone, least of all his caretakers.

"And don't forget…" She began.

"If I ever feel I can't do it, I stop and try again later. I got it, grandma, I'm not stupid!" Harry finished.

"Never said you were" Dorea said, smiling as she ruffled his hair.

Outside, the clock slowly rang its twelfth gong, and the two almost people left behind a tired but determined little green-eyed boy.


	4. Chapter 4

**********Disclaimer:** Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. If it did, I think you'd know. The only thing that's mine is the idea. The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Thanks to everyone who read me, added me to their favorite list or alert list. Please continue to do so :p Thanks to **Seraphinus**, **Shadowdude** and **Skyofblood** (Good names, it begins with the best letter in the alphabet I think ;) ). As to the **Guest** who wanted me to rewrite everything because it didn't please him, if you read this know that if you aren't even able to let me know your name, then I will not take your review into consideration. I know that Harry isn't the more realistic child, but then this is fanfiction and I can only try to make it believable.  
If you don't like it then don't read and you don't have to be rude in your review. I accept gladly critics as long as it's constructive.

Thanks to **Arwinia** who's still my beta even if I'm sure she hates me for it sometimes!

Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 4:**

Even though Harry wanted to begin to master his powers the moment his grandparents left him until next year, he fell asleep before he could consider how to. The next day, he was also too tired from going to sleep so late, and his aunt, who wasn't stupid, told him it was his fault he was tired if he couldn't respect the curfew she had given him.

Apparently she had been right to worry the previous night at her nephew's strange behavior, because it seemed like he had decided to get as little sleep as he could. As if it wasn't already difficult enough to put the kids in bed, she was now supposed to worry about whether they were going to sleep or not? No, the boy should have known better than to try to have her let him sleep in for an excuse as stupid as "I couldn't fall asleep" when she saw how tired he had been up until they came back with Dudley from their 'quest' as her Duddykins liked to call it. Well, at least he hadn't stolen anything.

The only solution Petunia saw to stop this bad habit before it even had the chance to set in was to simply give the boy something to do during the day to tire him out. For now, as he was still so young, it would only be small stuff like tidy up his cupboard or watch her cook, clean. Maybe he could play with Dudley and his friends. They were big boys and socializing could only do Harry good. Plus it would keep him outside where he would wear himself out faster.

In these circumstances, it took Harry a whole week to finally find the time to try to find his core and begin his magical work.

He had been warned it would be hard though, firstly because he didn't have that many instructions and secondly because a wizard wasn't used to have access to his magic this way (after centuries of wand use, wizard's magical cores had been somewhat conditioned to the use of wand, and had formed a sort of barrier around itself that would break when a wand chose its wizard. However, the pathway this tear created was almost instantly tuned to the wand in question and the barrier reformed itself, except for this small exception. It was what made wandless magic so rare. But Harry would only discover this years later…). He just hadn't thought it would be_ this_ hard.

When his grandparents had told him he had to search for his core in order to be able to invoke them, he thought it would be easy, that he just had to wish he could see it and then it would appear before him. His grandfather had advised him to meditate before and when he was relaxed enough, to try to find his magical core.

What he obviously had forgotten was that it was very very hard for a young child to stay focused on something for a long time. While Harry didn't have any problem to concentrate on an activity during the day, like playing a game he liked, it was another thing to stay seated in his cupboard for hours doing nothing concrete.

Actually, the first times he tried, he gave up or fell asleep after less than an hour. It wasn't until December that Harry managed to find himself in a state relaxed enough for him to try to find his magical core.

It was a snowy day. They were supposed to go see a movie, but Dudley had complained that it was too cold for that and so Petunia decided they would stay inside and watch the movie he'd choose. Since he knew he wasn't really welcome for this and also because he didn't like the movie his cousin had chosen, he decided to retreat in his room and try again to make progress in mastering his magic.

Harry had actually finally made some progress recently, since it was now too cold to go outside as often as he used to. He could now stay in his cupboard and do what he wanted there whereas before he had to go outside. Anyway, this last week, he had managed to stay still more than an hour and he had been pretty calm then. He hadn't even had the urge to get up and walk like he normally did, nor did he fell asleep.

In fact, he would have tried to find his core at this moment if not for his aunt's call for dinner. He had been too tired to try again after eating yesterday, but he now had all the afternoon to do it because that was the time his aunt would be busy with her son.

The green-eyed boy settled comfortably on his mattress and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply and slowly, in and out like he had quickly learnt to, he forgot everything but his need for his magic (at first, he had tried to concentrate on nothing, and then on his magic, but it never worked as well as what he used now).

After what seemed like seconds to him but could have been minutes or hours for all he knew since he really wasn't paying attention to what happened around him as he was concentrated on what was inside him, he found himself in by a deep calm, surrounded by a heavy but comfortable black cloud. It felt almost like sleeping, except that he knew he was awake.

He could feel his body in his little cupboard but at the same time it was like his mind was elsewhere, in this thick black mist. He could feel himself float and if he wanted to move he just had to think of what he wanted to do for it to be done. It was truly unbelievable.

Having explored this plane, he decided to search for what he came here for: his magic.

He decided to use for this the same method he used to move, and thought of himself in front of his magic. He closed his 'mental' eyes and focused as hard as he could on this thought. When he opened his 'eyes', he was in front of a shimmering silver barrier and he could see behind it strands of bright yellow, deep green, light blue, black, white and every other colors as they danced together and merged to form others strands of different colors. Those strands then met others or divided themselves back in a hypnotizing ballet.

It was truly beautiful and breathtaking, but when Harry put his 'hand' on the barrier and tried to push gently through, his 'hand' moved less than an inch, sinking in the shield and not through it. When he tried harder, he even received a small shock and the barrier pushed him back.

Frowning, Harry tried again but not at the same spot. He got the very same result. The black-haired boy circled slowly around the barrier, but he got the same result everywhere. What was that? He knew that behind the shield was his magic, and the key to his success, but how was he supposed to access it with that shield here?

As he mused on this worrying problem, he began to feel himself drifting off. Not toward sleep, but toward reality and his body.

In a long breath, he found himself back in his body, and he only had the time to open his eyes before passing out from exhaustion. He hadn't realized that working in his mind and on his magic would be so tiring, but magic was like a muscle, and you had to use it and take care of it for it to work well and be strong.

Harry slept through the whole afternoon, or rather what was left of it. He ate dinner when his aunt awoke him for it, but went back to his bed as soon as he could. Once again he had to wait for several days before trying again, except that this time it was because he was too tired to try and not because he had to find the time. And this time, he was really excited because he had finally made some progress and he couldn't wait to be able to go back in his mind to have another go at crossing the barrier around his core.

Finally, after four days, Harry was able to find himself again in the necessary mental state for finding his core through the black mist. During those days, he had discovered than if he was too tired he could try all he could but he would only be capable of having access to the black mist. The sight of his magical core was like forbidden to him. He supposed it was like a safeguard so as not to have the wizard exhaust himself.

Anyway, he noticed that it took him less time to reach the state he wanted. He spent less time in the black mist than the last time and got in front of the shield way faster than before. Once again he circled around it, but this time he didn't try to go through it by touching it.

He thought that since trying to force his way through didn't work, he would have to try another way. He decided to just look around to see if there was a fissure somewhere in the barrier he could exploit.

Last time, he had discovered he only needed to think something for it to happen. When he found nothing, he began to think. Why hadn't he tried to think of the barrier disappearing or something? Well, Harry wasn't going to wait much longer to see if this method worked better than the previous one.

Closing his mental 'eyes' (something he had quickly found out helped him greatly to realize what he wanted), he imagined the shimmering barrier covered with cracks and breaking. He focused as hard as he could on this image, and he opened his 'eyes', trying to superpose what he had in mind and what was truly before him. It was how he had come here, and it was worth a shot.

Unfortunately, it didn't work at all like he expected it to. Instead of gaining access to the magic strands he could see floating behind the transparent wall, all he got was insufferable pain. Screaming mentally, he took his head in his hands and immediately stopped thinking about the barrier breaking. The pain lessened quickly, and soon disappeared. If Harry didn't remember the horrid feeling of his head splitting in two and his body burning, he would have thought he dreamed all this. But he knew intimately that the pain had been real, and it seemed that he would have to find another idea to gain access to his magic because obviously trying to break in wasn't going to work.

It quickly became evident to Harry that he wasn't going to be able to get into his magical core by force as the weeks passed and he experienced more of this terrible mental pain that left aches in his muscles when he stopped meditating. But he wasn't going to give up, no. Not when he was so close to his goal (literally in this case since only a few inches thick transparent wall separated him from his purpose)! There had to be a way, and he was going to find it one day, even if it took him a year.

Fortunately for him, it took him less time than that.

Towards the end of March, having tried all sort of thoughts combination to break into his core (he also experienced the same pain several times, unfortunately. He was always careful after those times, and anyway he couldn't have any access to the barrier for days after that), he finally managed to find one that worked.

The good way wasn't to try to break in (though that would have been far simpler), but to just wish himself to be in his core instead of in front of the shield when leaving the black mist thing.

It was quite accidentally he discovered this. He had been exploring the black field, since he couldn't access the "shield's room" as he had taken to call it, and had just wondered what would happen if he just thought of being inside the shield, forgetting that one just needed to think of something for it to happen there.

And it was how Harry managed to finally find himself with his magic. And if it had seemed beautiful when he was standing in front of it, it was nothing like being inside the protective bubble, floating amidst the colored strands. Here, he could feel the power of his magic beside him whereas earlier he could only imagine. It was warm like a fire in winter, refreshing like cold water in the summer, soft like a cat's fur and it was clearly _his_.

It seemed almost conscious in the way it welcomed him, encircling him while almost singing love, life and joy. It was truly overwhelming but oh so beautiful.

Of course, like always, the nicest things are always the shortest, and Harry found himself exhausted back on his bed. But he had now made progress toward his goal, and God helps whoever tried to stop him.

After this, he slept through dinner and breakfast the next day and after the third time his aunt called him to eat with them; she decided that if he didn't want to eat then it was too bad for him. So of course, when he woke up, he was very hungry (also because he had burnt a lot of energy in accessing his magic) and wanted nothing more than to eat.

Petunia, seeing there a chance to occupy him for a while so he could spend less time on whatever mischief he was planning decided to begin to teach how to cook. Of course, at his age it mostly meant that he was to give her whatever she asked for when she asked for it but when he was older she could teach him everything and have him work a little.

Maybe as a punition for oversleeping or as a way to keep him busy, she had him with her as often as just after the last Halloween, and once again Harry had to wait before he could finally attempt to go back to his magic. It still took him less time than in the winter, but he was growing more and more impatient with the more time passed.

Maybe it was because of this impatience, or just because he was now used to going there, but he didn't even need a second to achieve the meditation's state he needed and to arrive in his magic. He had noticed over the previous months that he needed less and less time to access it, but it was the first time it took so little time.

Anyway, casting his questions about it aside, he decided to focus on how to master his magic, a task that quickly proved itself to be even more tiring and hard than he thought (and he had begun to consider it difficult the very moment he hadn't been able to initiate contact with his magic as soon as he found it). He had thought he would need time to be able to convey what he wanted to it and for his magic to decipher the messages, but he hadn't ever imagined he would first need to convince his magic to work for him.

It seemed that centuries of being forcefully tamed by the use of wands had left magic with sequels, the first being the difficulty Harry had already met to be able to access it. Another, that he was just discovering now, was the need to sort of prove oneself worthy to it, to persuade magic that it wanted to be used by its wielder. For now, though Harry had still been greeted as enthusiastically as before by the colored strands of magic, they refused to let themselves be wielded.

It was quickly becoming exasperating that seven months after he discovered he was magical and that he could theoretically do magic, he still wasn't really nearer the practical side of the fact. Sure he could feel his magic, but he couldn't use it yet and the next Halloween was coming more and more quickly (it was still months away, but seeing as how fast the ones behind him had gone by, it seemed like he could wake up one day and realize he was in October).

Since he absolutely didn't know where to start, he decided to begin by searching for the source of his supposed Necromancers' powers, because it was what he came for in the first place. His grandparents had told him it would be through those that he could summon them when he was sufficiently adept with his magic, and since the next time he would see them was getting closer each day, he wanted to be able to tell them he had made some real progress with his powers.

He concentrated on what meant this part of his powers to him: a family that really liked him, to see things no one else could and to interact with the dead. He could feel and see his magic twirl around him, always just almost grazing him, going faster and faster until he could 'feel' the wind it produced on his skin. And then it stopped, and the multiple strands moved back, disappearing one by one, like lights going out.

Soon Harry found himself in an empty room, and it was then he realized just how big the place was. The silvery shield he had discovered months earlier was even more impressive from inside than from outside, and he could see that it made a gigantic dome. Its wall was thick and unlike from outside, was opaque. All along it lightning-like threads were roaming, silver (brighter than the dome inherent color) and blinding white, seemingly exploding on one side and appearing on the other a second after. This spectacle was too beautiful.

Looking above and around him, though, he could see nothing like what he expected to find after focusing on his necromancy. It wasn't until he finally looked _down_ that he noticed something.

The 'floor' on which he was standing wasn't a floor (of course, he hadn't expected it to be one, he was still in his mind after all) but rather some sort of a gigantic unmoving lake. It was rather strange that the first thing that came to his mind when he saw this was a lake, seeing as he had been walking on it and could even jump without sinking by a single inch or it moving.

However, as he sat down and tried to push his hand through it, like he had first done with his magic's shield, it went through with so much ease that one might have though it butter. Encouraged by this first success, he pushed deeper, and suddenly he couldn't control his arm anymore. On its own accord, it continued to sink in, slowly dragging him closer to the ground until he was lying on his side and began to sink from his entire body and not just his arm.

It was a very frightening experience for Harry, who was already wondering how he would be able to breathe if he was entirely into this 'lake', and was desperately trying to rise and to rip off his arm from the jelly-like thing.

Suddenly and with a soft "pop", the young boy found himself completely swallowed by the ground and in less than a second realized that he wasn't dead but rather that the world now seemed inversed.

The dome was still there, as strong as ever (unfortunately), but instead of silvery it was now as black as the night would be without stars. Also, the colored strands weren't there, but floating around him in their places were misty greys threads, sometimes almost shaping something that appeared to be just out of his grasp.

The silence was eery, contrary to above where it had been very welcomed and strangely adequate. After the scary way he had taken to come here, though, it wasn't that surprising that the place for his Necromancer's powers was a bit creepy.

However, walking in this place felt very normal to him, and surrounded by misty shapes he felt at home. Unlike the colored strings of his natural magic, the ones here hadn't come to greet him nor had they circled around him. No, they just stayed where they were, twirling, sometimes thinning, sometimes thickening.

When Harry approached them though, they didn't flee, and when he touched one, he felt strong and images of feats he couldn't quite grasp filled his mind for a few seconds before flickering out when he thought he was beginning to understand them. It was very frustrating, more so than not being to access his magic through the dome had ever been; because he really felt close to understand how to use his powers this time before that understanding was taken from him.

Over the next months, he quickly discovered that it was way easier for him to try to control the Necromancy part of his magic than the more normal side of it. While he could now, of course only in his mind, do some small things on the Dark Plane (as he had in a streak of genius called it one day) like giving a real shape to some of the threads, something that was harder than it seemed, he still was trying to warm up his natural magic to him.

In the real world, he had taken to exercise as well. Though he couldn't call forth his natural magic because it was always blocked by the silvery dome he couldn't seem to ever get rid of, except for when he was really angry or scared and it blew its way out, he remarked he could use small amounts of his Necromancy's powers by sneaking little bits of the grey mist out.

Strangely, the black part of the dome, even if it was as strong from outside as its light counterpart, was weaker from inside. He couldn't break it, though, because both parts were linked and to break one was to break the other, and since one was too strong, well he couldn't bring down the whole thing. However he could use this weakness to pass through some of his magic.

The images he got from interacting with his magic's shapes were now staying a bit longer, enough so that he could remember ideas of what he could do with his powers. That, added to the small hints about his powers he remembered from his discussion with his grandparents, had guided him towards the first use of his powers.

Since he knew intimately that he couldn't summon anything yet, he decided to simply try to See with his magic. He used the power to try to see the souls of people and to feel the magic of the world. So far, it hadn't been really successful, but he could at least see the magic flow sometimes through something if he focused. (To Harry, this was ridiculously little considering the possibilities he saw, but when compared to what wizards in general could do, it was already more than what some of them could ever hope to achieve.)

He was very disappointed he wasn't going to be able to see his family more than once this year too. At least it gave him something to look forward to, because he realized he was getting more and more left behind by his aunt and his uncle. This year they hadn't brought him with them when they left for a week-end to Majorca. Instead he had been left with an old lady who lived a few houses away, Mrs. Figgs. She had been nice, letting him do what he wanted, but she had way too many cats.

Like last year, he wasn't included in the Dursleys get out for Halloween, and they would come home even later than the last time, because they were invited to stay for dinner at one's of Vernon's customers after Dudley finished knocking on every door asking for sweets, this time with their hosts' son and disguised as a pirate.

Harry had been invited of course, but Petunia had told them he was too shy to come, when in truth she only feared an incident would happen with his magic and she wouldn't be able to explain it. It bothered him a little that his aunt had lied like that, but since it allowed him to stay behind and alone in the house like the previous year, he was more pleased than annoyed.

And, on the 31st of October, as he saw his relatives' car disappear toward another suburb, this one closer to London, he turned away and watched his own _guests_ slowly appear from nowhere with apparent glee and excitement. After all, it had been a year since he had last seen them.

7


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. If it did, I think you'd know. The only thing that's mine is the idea. The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling.

And Chapter 5! I'm even on time! I can't tell you how much I want to finally arrive to the Hogwarts parts. I never thought writing a child was so difficult. And i think that you may still find Harry a bit too mature for his age in this chapter, but as soon as I figure how to do it, I promise I'll correct it.

Thanks again to everyone who read me, added me to their favorites or alerts, and a bigger thanks to those who left a review :p You all are good people ;) The other, well you know what you need to do... There's this little box at the end of the page that feels very alone :p

**Chapter 5:**

As the older Potter finally materialized in the living-room, they realized just how much of a curse it was to be an Imprint who knew a Necromancer, especially if said Necromancer was part of their family.

Indeed, as they were tackled by a small black haired boy, they could easily notice how much he had changed in the past year while they hadn't aged and would never again.

"Grandma! Grandpa! It's so cool to see you again! You know at first I thought you weren't real and that I'd dreamt everything but then I thought that maybe I didn't and even if it was having magic would just be so awesome I decided I would try and..." Apparently their grandson was happy to see them, thought amusedly Charlus. His wife was busy checking the boy, looking everywhere to see if he wasn't injured and to have a closer look on the changes he had gone through.

He was well, and apparently happier than before. He had grown quite a lot but still sported the infamous Potter's hair. Once again, he was alone in the house, a thought that made the man frown. Why was the child alone at night? During the day he might understand, but at night? Shaking his head and the worries away, he turned his attention back on the green-eyed boy.

"So how was your year, my boy?" Charlus asked the overexcited boy.

Immediately, Harry, who had stopped talking and had been trying to get away from Dorea who was still fussing over him, resumed his talking.

"It was fantastic! Well, except for the part where you weren't there, of course, cause that just wasn't cool, but to try magic is awesome!"

At this, both adults smiled widely, remembering fondly their own youth when they used magic for the first time. Of course, it was very different for them, since they witnessed acts of magic every day whereas Harry could only rely on what they had told him and himself.

"Yes it is." Dorea agreed. "And you told us you practiced…? Did it work? Because we didn't know much, and I didn't think it would be enough for you to work with. I mean, there's no actual right way to do it, and it's been years if not decades since someone tried to access their magic by themselves…"

"Of course! I'm so sorry I wasn't able to do much, I know you wanted me to help you come here, but it's so difficult and I have a lot of problems with my magic who just won't listen to me… It's so annoying, and I wasted so much time in trying to access it…" Harry was anxious to see the reactions of his family. During the whole year he had tried to master his magic to make them proud but in the end it wasn't very successful and he was very afraid of disappointing them.

"Oh sweetie…" Dorea cooed, ruffling his hair. "It's already formidable you managed to see your magic, you know. I don't think anybody did that in the last few centuries!"

"It's true?" Harry asked.

"Of course. Why would we lie to you?" Charlus answered. "Magic's difficult you know. There's a lot more to it than just waving a wand like some people think. It's not surprising you haven't made much progress."

"Really? So you're not…" Harry licked his lips nervously. "Disappointed?"

The two adults laughed. "Of course not! We're even proud of you. Personally, I know that at your age I could never have done what you did." Charlus dismissed his grandson worries easily.

At the boy's bright smile, he could not help but compare it to the seriousness of his expression a few seconds ago, and think that it was not normal for him to worry so much about what they thought. Just how were those Dursley raising him? First they were making him sleep in a cupboard and now it seemed that they were sapping Harry's self-confidence. At least he looked well.

"So… Anything interesting happened this year that we should know about?" Dorea inquired.

"Hmm… Nope, I don't think so. Well, I can't really remember much of what happens, but I know I made progress with my magic!"

What followed was an hour long mostly one-sided conversation where Harry explained everything he had managed to do with his magic in the last year. Charlus and Dorea were impressed, and since they didn't know anything about the inner working of a magical core, kept asking questions about how he did this or that.

Finally Harry didn't have anything else to say about what he could do in his magical core and his grandparents had given him all the tips they had thought of and said everything that they thought could help him.

Sometime during the discussion, they had settled in the living room, with Harry sitting on the sofa and the two Imprints on the floor since they just passed through the sofa when they tried to sit on it with Harry.

Now that this summary of what Harry had learnt in the last year was finished, he let his grandparents talk since what they told him was always useful. After all, it was them who gave him the idea to use his magic.

Now, however, they had decided to teach him about magical culture. As they had said earlier, there was a lot more to magic and their world than just getting spells right, and since he was a Potter, there were some things he needed to know. Apparently, his family was well respected and an old one, so people would expect him to know of the way things worked in the Magical world.

While his family apparently didn't lend too much importance to this, others did and they wanted him to know how to deal with them. According to Charlus, it was sort of a tradition for the Potters to use the laws they benefited from against other pureblood families. Of course, he had then to explain what exactly a pureblood was.

A pureblood was a wizard who had four magical grandparents, a half-blood had at least one magical parent and the others were called Muggleborn. Harry was a half-blood and the heir of an old pureblood family. Depending on whom he would marry, his children might be pureblood or half-blood like him.

To Harry, this was all very stupid and it seemed like a future headache. Especially since it meant that he had a lot of things to learn and very little time to do so because for now he could see the only people able to teach him once a year. For now Charlus and Dorea had only talked about who the different families were and what characterized them.

He learned that some people had a magical orientation, that they would feel attracted by a side of magic more than another and would perform some spells with more ease than someone without this affinity. It run in the family and had been the origin of many disagreements in the Magical world because having an affinity generally made you a better wizard.

Unfortunately, as interesting as it had been, it was soon time for the two dead to leave Harry as the day ended, and they promised to come back the next year.

Harry decided to go to sleep, since he was tired and had much to think on.

Harry spent a good part of his year thinking about what his grandparents had told him about magical affinity. He quickly deducted that with his strong Necromancy powers, he either didn't have one or it was Dark. Unfortunately, there was no way for him to know that now because he didn't know what to look for.

He made a lot of progress that year with his magic, the main one being to finally gain the ability to touch his magic. It happened one day, just like that. He had reached toward one of the blue strands floating in front of him and it had not slipped away but rather wrapped around his hand. It had been a strange feeling to say the least.

After that, he had spent more time on this side of his magic and had ended up with several balls of magic made from the different colors strands that were in his core. He now possessed uniform unmoving balls of magic instead of drifting colored threads. He felt more light-headed than before, like he had been freed from a burden he didn't know he carried, but the magic would still not leave his core.

He had made some progress with his necromancy too. After hours and hours of practice, he had managed to summon more and more easily this magic, and now he only needed to concentrate for a few seconds on it instead of meditating like before.

He tried to use it as often as he could, since he had a feeling that he needed to be very proficient with it before he could summon an Imprint whenever he wanted. The shadowy shades in his core had been no help. He had tried to touch them in order to have more information on what he needed to do, but it seemed like he couldn't access it for now.

This had forced him to focus on what he could already do, which wasn't really a bad thing. Using this magic had tired him easily had first but now it barely made him out of breath for a few minutes. His goal was to be able to last a whole day without having to stop or summon more magic in his eyes. It had been very strange at first to see the world differently but he was now used to it.

He had preferred to try to see the magic in the world around him, and if the first time had been successful, he quickly discovered as this sight became stronger that it could very easily become blinding to look into the earth. He could now discern people too, or rather whether they had magic or not. Well, since he hadn't met anyone with magic, he couldn't really tell if it worked, but there was nothing around the people, like a void, whereas it was shining ever so slightly in the air.

The best would be to find a wizard or a witch to try his sight on. For some reason, he could not see himself, but he really wanted to be able to observe what magic would look like in a real person instead of in the nature. Seeing as how his own core had been a wonderful sight, he couldn't wait to discover how it looked from outside.

He couldn't really do anything else with this magic for now though, so except for trying to improve his sight, he mostly concentrated his efforts on his natural magic, which was the reason he had made so much progress with it when the last year had been much more difficult.

His goal was still to break the barrier, but it didn't want to move, no matter how much he hit it. He had tried from the inside and the outside, but the most he had been able to do was gaining a terrible headache.

He really wanted to be able to use his magic like his parents did in the tales his grandparents had told him, but he had absolutely no clue on how to. Well apart from the fact that he needed to break the force field that is.

He really wished magic would be easier…

oO – DLM – Oo

Petunia was very relieved. After a very difficult first year, they had managed to settle in a sort of routine with the boy. Of course he was still sleeping in that cupboard of his, for she didn't dare to move him out of it in fear that the nightmares which seemed to have disappeared came back.

She had been wary of him at first, especially since he actually didn't seem to sleep at night, but when nothing _strange_ happened in the next year, she thought that maybe – maybe, that was it. They had done it. She could have the perfectly normal life she dreamed of with her husband and her son and she would try to take care of her nephew to the best of her abilities.

But then _it_ had to come and ruin everything. Just like it did with her sister. Her poor, poor sister, who hadn't realized that the world she wanted to enter was obviously just a lie. A good, beautiful lie, but one nonetheless. Those wizards had come to their home and they had told her that she could become more than she was, and Petunia knew she couldn't blame her for that, because Lily had always had a heart too soft. How could she have resisted to that kind of promise, that there was another world, a fantastic place, that wanted her, a place where she would be at home with other people like her and that she could actually help in that world.

So no, Petunia hadn't expected her sister to refuse the offer they made when she was eleven. She even shamelessly admitted (only to herself of course) that she had believed them for a time too. But it had hurt all the same, that her sister was willing, and more than willing, ready to leave behind her the world she had known all her life, to leave her family and all of their projects for a future they had made together in favor of entering an unknown one.

She couldn't say she wouldn't have done the same because nobody ever offered her something like that, but sometimes she wished that her sister had refused to go and had stayed with them. Maybe she wouldn't be dead then.

She wouldn't have to deal with a magical child because she honestly had no idea how her parents had done it. Maybe it was because they didn't know it was magic at the time and so could delude themselves into thinking that nothing happened.

Unfortunately, neither she nor her family had that luxury anymore. And because her normally intelligent sister hadn't had the cleverness to see through the lies of the society she had joined (and Petunia had, for once better at something than her sister), she now lived in fear.

She always had to look behind her to see if nobody suspected anything, and as if that was not enough she also had to beware of everyone because apparently her nephew was an important target for some faction in_ that_ world (and didn't that just prove that she was right all along? Because seriously, what kind of society would tell children that they had a wonderful and shining future when people apparently tried to kill little kids?).

And now she knew that her nephew would be a part of that society later, when he was older. So she would try to teach him what honor was, because it seemed that nobody had any _there _but she would not let herself become attached to him. Not after Lily. It had hurt too much when she had left her behind.

She would however try to free him of this burden, because he didn't deserve to be part of such a twisted world, to be used like her sister had been. No matter how much she would prefer he wasn't there in her house, in her life, he was part of her family and she had to take care of her own.

It was why she now always punished him so harshly after he had had a burst of magic. And though he didn't have a single one the second year he spent with them, he already had had a few this one.

oO – DLM – Oo

The first incident went unnoticed by everyone except Harry, who was overjoyed. It had apparently been almost two year since the last time he had had accidental magic and though he didn't remember what he did, he knew he had made some since his grandparents had explained what it was. But since then, he hadn't made anything come to him, explode or vanish.

On the plus side, it had limited the strange looks he often got from his aunt and uncle just before they left him alone or when he was scared, or when he was happy, or… Whenever he was there actually. Now, though, those guarded looks had receded until they were nothing but a hazy memory in Harry's mind. Sure, they still didn't trust him fully for some reason he probably would never understand, but at least they were more discreet about it.

On the other side, it had done nothing to improve Harry self-confidence. In fact, even though he knew he had magic since he could actually see it (a real asset he didn't realize the full potential yet), he often had doubts about whether he had something wrong or not and if he had somehow affected his magic badly in trying to use it.

So the green-eyed little wizard was indeed very relieved when he finally had another burst of accidental magic, even if it wasn't really anything truly special.

He had been in the little garden his aunt had set up around their house, laying on the grass taking advantage of a rare sunny day, thinking on what he would try to do next with his magic. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that he had pulled off a small patch of the green grass, leaving the ground bare. He had begun to panic, thinking about what his aunt would do when she saw this and how he was in so much trouble.

Suddenly, he had felt a slight pull, similar but different to the one he experienced when he used his Necromancy to See, and just like that, _magically_, the grass had regrown even greener and healthier than it had been before.

At first he had been quite puzzled at how something like this could have happened when he wasn't able to consciously use his magic no matter how hard he tried. His first thought had been that maybe, maybe the barrier had finally broken down and he would at last be able to use his magic.

This idea had been quickly discarded when he discovered the force-field, as strong as ever, in the place it had always been. He had been really disappointed, especially when he realized he couldn't force another incident like that one to happen again. However, he discovered that the pull he had felt wasn't just part of his imagination. No, when he got to his core that night, some of the small balls he had assembled had shrunk.

He deducted that those symbolized his power and that the bigger they were, the more powerful he would be. Since he still could not use his magic on the outside world, he decided he would try to augment his magic inside his core. At least, it didn't hurt to try.

The problem was that once again he didn't really know where to begin since he had no one to guide him, so he had to start from nothing but his imagination. And a child's mind was very, very imaginative.

After dozen of fruitless tests, he finally found the right way (if there was really one). He did it slowly, color after color. Firstly, he separated the ball back into the different strands and then he tried to augment those strands. Strangely it worked on some but not on all, just like the improvement was more remarkable on some balls of color than on others. He noticed that some had really grown, sometimes like two or three times their original sizes whereas others nearly hadn't.

During the months it took him to do this, from maybe December to April, there was to his disappointment no case of accidental magic. It was only when he stopped working on his magic for lack of an idea of what to do now, that something happened.

Only this time it wasn't something small and unnoticeable like the previous time, be it because the magic hadn't been used for so long or because it was now stronger. And unfortunately for the young black-haired boy, the act was seen by his family as he had been inside the house at the time.

When Harry woke up this morning, he noticed that it was a very sunny day, meaning he would have to go outside if he wanted his aunt to leave him be, maybe to the park a few roads down, and find himself a quiet corner where he could practice his magic. This day held promise.

He ate quickly under the amused but disapproving gaze of his aunt and run upstairs to wash himself and dress. He didn't have a problem to go upstairs, even though he met his uncle and his cousin in the stairs, but when he was going to go down he slipped on some water left on the floor, and went flying towards the stairs.

At this time, he could have escaped being sighted if he hadn't screamed when he felt his feet leave the ground and miss a step. Unfortunately he did and the sound caught Petunia and Vernon's attention who came worried that something serious happened.

Meanwhile Harry in his fright had once again used accidental magic to protect himself. This time, his magic had slowed his fall until he was stopped in midair. Of course Harry didn't know this because as soon as he felt himself fell he closed his eyes tightly and tried to protect his head.

When the Dursleys arrived in front of the staircases, they didn't believe in what they saw with their own eyes. In another family, a magical one, an incident such as this would have acclaimed and later laughed at as a stupid case of magic, because one had to admit that Harry looked absolutely ridiculous suspended in midair in the middle of the stairs, arms around the head and eyes closed.

As if sensing he somehow had problems, Harry opened his eyes, and blinked slowly, trying to assert the situation. He was apparently not hurt at all and he wasn't even moving. Those were the good points. The bad ones were that he wasn't alone and that, judging from the red color of his uncle and the angry expression of his aunt, he was in trouble.

As soon as he realized he was suspended in the air, he carefully unbend himself and put a feet on the floor. When he touched the ground, though, gravity took hold again and he had to hold on the rail or else he would have fallen (again). His aunt didn't wait until he got to the last step to grab him and try to deafen him.

Vernon, as red as a very ripe tomato, looked ready to explode behind her and tried to yell as well at Harry each time his wife stopped to take a breath. And Dudley, who hadn't been there to see his cousin flying and had only arrived when he had heard the screams, was watching his parents looking lost because he didn't understand what the argument was about.

"What was that? How dare you do _that_ in my house! I won't stand for it, no! You can't… It's not normal…" Petunia ranted.

Harry wanted to reply that it was magic and part of him, that it was obviously a good thing because it had saved him and that it was part of him anyway so she didn't really have a choice in this. But then he remembered that telling her this would imply that he knew he was magical, and then he would have to explain how he knew it. Seeing how she was angry at this discovery when she couldn't suspect he knew something, he somehow didn't think it would be a good idea to tell her anything. Plus he had promised his grandparents he wouldn't say anything to anyone.

So he had to endure the lecture, and when it finally ended he was thrown in his cupboard with the promise he wouldn't get out until dinner.

That didn't really bothered him because he had ate plenty at breakfast so he could hold until dinner and anyway he would use this time to do proper magic (not the kind you couldn't control). But something had bothered him in his aunt's speech: by the way she talked, he knew she had some knowledge of magic, maybe even more than he did since his only sources were his dead grandparents who couldn't leave their Manor except for a day a year.

He had now another mission: find exactly what Petunia Dursley knew of the Magical world. Because if she had more information on what really happened to his parents and what went on three years ago in this other world, he had to learn it.

Of course, since he was locked in his cupboard for now, he would first begin with what he could do, and for now that sadly didn't include finding information.

No, what he could do was try to break the barrier around his magic. During his unexpected flight experience, he had been so panicked he had unconsciously reached toward his magical core, and he had been able to see what happened during a burst of accidental magic. And he believed he could do it again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Diclaimer: **Nothing belong to me. Unfortunately. Well, the idea does but that's all :p

Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter, added me to their favorites, to their alerts and my favorites those who left a review behind. You are the best ;)

I'm glad people like this fic. Well, now read and don't forget to review :p

**Chapter 6:**

Harry didn't remember ever feeling as excited as he felt now, not even on Halloween day when he waited for his grandparents to arrive. He may not have many memories yet (he had heard on the TV that it was only after a certain age that you could remember everything), but he felt that he would remember it had he felt like this.

He had barely settled in his cupboard that he was already plunging deeply inside his magic, drifting easily through the black mist that guarded his spirit until he reached his magical core and thought himself inside. He could now see the usual sight of the more or less small blobs of colored magic in front of him, except that it was obvious that the act of protection he had just done hadn't been for free.

Though he knew his power would soon regenerate, perhaps in the next week or so, he still felt that he wasn't going to go very far if he could only suspend himself in the air for a few minutes before getting that exhausted. And that was if he managed to make his magic work.

However he finally had a real chance.

And all this was because of a one of its kind/once in a lifetime lucky kind of event. And it was also exactly the kind of lucky event he had needed to finally have the breakthrough he waited for.

And to think that it only took him nearly dying for it to happen.

Nevertheless, Harry was feeling very grateful to whoever was up there (assuming there was someone) for giving him the insight he had needed to figure how to work his magic.

You see, during his impromptu flight training, he had been so panicked he had unconsciously retreated into his mind to the only place that felt safe at that very moment: his magical core, the very same place he had been trying to use ever since he had discovered it.

There, he had been able to witness the inner working of his magic when he did accidental magic. Watching the colored magic twirl had told him just how he needed to shape his magic to break, at least partially, the shield around his core.

And so here he was, once again meditating until he found himself once again where he wanted to be, an action that only took a few seconds this time. The balls he had made were still there, looking as beautiful as ever, though the blue and yellow ones were notably depleted for now. He didn't know what that meant exactly, but he could only guess that it meant he wasn't going to learn how to fly anytime soon, though that would have been really fun.

From what he had seen, the only way to break through the silvery wall was to do it from the inside (even though it seemed actually stronger on this side), something that he had never even thought of trying.

So he began excitedly to copy what he had seen his magic do by itself in order to protect him. Meaning he reassembled the small balls of magic he had created into a big one. He then shaped this ball into a big and thick rope that he directed toward the annoying wall. Of course, he had to give it some sort of energy for it to go where he wanted it to, and so he imagined it to be propelled by some kind of a big catapult. This was all in his mind after all, and nobody was there to stop him from having his fun. He could do whatever he wanted.

His magic hit the shimmery shield with surprisingly no sound. He had expected something, maybe not a "congrats, you made it boy!" but at least some sort of a bang or clang. Something.

Instead, he got nothing at all. Sure, the magic he had sent had touched the wall, but he could not see any effect as of yet. Maybe it would take time... Or maybe he had once again failed.

No, he refused to believe that something he had seen work only a few minutes before didn't now that he tried it consciously.

Fortunately, Harry didn't have much time to worry about his possible failure, since suddenly the magic he had sent moved. On its own. Without he willing it.

The rope he had sent had at first seemed content to just stay there and to condense back in a multi colored ball. That was what had also led him to believe he had failed once again. But it was now clear he hadn't, or that he had at least had some sort of success.

Slowly spreading from the impact point, his magic was progressively covering the shield he wanted to destroy. It took it some time to cover it entirely, but when it did Harry found himself in a darkness that strangely reminded him of when he switched his natural powers to his necromancy. Suddenly, he wondered if it had really been a good idea to try to break it from the inside.

Then everything stopped. It was a difficult experience to describe, as if suddenly the earth had stopped turning or the birds singing but… more. The kind of thing you only notice when it's gone. And then it started again, and everything looked just as it was, the shield was still there, and his magic was back to floating around.

Disappointed, he went nonetheless toward the barrier to see if anything had changed. Maybe something else than a strange loss of time had happened, something that he couldn't see?

Tentatively, he put his hand on the shield, and to his surprise, it went through and didn't hurt. Last time he had checked, he had received a mean shock and his hand hadn't gone through. He pulled his hand back, stared at it in disbelief and maybe something akin to hope.

He took a deep breath and did something very foolish. He took a step forward and passed through the shield that until now had stopped him from being able to access his magic. He smiled, and here, deep in his mind, he allowed himself to scream and dance in victory, knowing there was no one to bother.

He spent some time playing happily with his magic, since he had nothing better to do, before going back to consciousness.

The first thing Harry noticed when he came back into his body was how much better he actually felt. It wasn't that he felt powerful or something like that, but more like a was finally free from a burden he didn't knew he carried. Everything seemed clearer and he was sure that should he try to use his powers they would come more freely than before.

He couldn't wait to tell his grandparents he finally had access to his magic.

Halloween couldn't come quickly enough for Harry. Though the summer rapidly went by, September and October seemed to last forever. Like before with his Necromancers' powers, the main problem he had was that he didn't know what to do and how to use them, and he hoped his family could teach him a few things.

He also didn't really have a special lair to hide into (all heroes had one, and he wanted one too because it was cool!) yet so he couldn't really practice anyway. It seemed that the more he discovered about magic, the more difficult it seemed to be.

Fortunately, this year again his family had decided to leave him alone for Halloween, this time to see Marge who didn't want to come and didn't want Harry at her home. Seeing Dudley's eagerness to see his aunt again, Petunia had agreed but only if they stayed for the evening and only the evening.

Harry was more than happy to be once again left alone to enjoy his yearly meeting with his family.

After the usual bonding time, he quickly asked more about magic and how to do it. He told them how when he tried to do magic using his normal powers, like to make something float or come to him, he pushed his magic out, told it what to do and ended up really exhausted. He wanted to know if there was a solution to this problem or if he had to wait until his eleventh birthday when he could get a wand.

As it turned out, there might be a solution. Charlus remembered that he had had a friend who had studied wand lore and how to create those necessary items for all wizards. He hadn't been able to tell him much (professional secret and everything), but the subject had been so interesting that Charlus had asked for everything his friend could tell.

He hadn't learn anything about how to do wands, or even how the wandmakers found the components of their creations, but he had learnt quite a few things about the meanings of one wood or core over another and how a wand worked. His friend, Achernar, hadn't been able to shut up on the last point when he realized just how important a wand was to a wizard.

Apparently, the wand created a sort of channel for the magic. It was because of this channel that a wizard could do magic and it was why a wizard without his wand was usually as good as useless.

When Charlus brought the question of wandless magic forth, having seen Albus Dumbledore do it a few times, Achernar had told him that it was possible for powerful wizards to choose not to use their wands for the simplest magic, the ones they did every day and were really used to, but that they could never do wonderful feats or spells creations without a wand. Plus, even the more adept wizard at wandless magic had used a wand at some point in his life.

To Achernar (and that was also the mind of the majority of wands' experts), wandless magic was only possible because the wand had first created channels that the magic could follow. It was harder not to use the tool that a wand was because then it meant that what usually was a spontaneous action had to become a purposeful one. And most people, even when they had the magic levels necessary, lacked the will to force their magic to do something when it was easier to just use a wand.

And so he advised Harry to try to create channels like the ones a wand formed before doing magic. As for his "lair", they were both sorry but didn't know enough of the neighborhood to be of any use on this point.

They also taught him about the magical world, since it was becoming obvious Petunia wouldn't. At first, she could have had the excuse that she didn't know how to tell the boy, but now that he had done another noticeable bout of magic, it was obvious she wouldn't tell anything. And their world was too complicated for Harry to enter unaware of their customs.

The first thing they told him was that while they, the Potter, usually didn't lend much importance to the protocol of the pureblood society, some things would be expected of him now that he was the last of them. Unfortunately for him, that meant he had to learn etiquette, and people wouldn't accept that he had grown up in the Muggle world as a pretext for him not knowing their ways.

They mostly told him about the view their world had about magic because they couldn't really teach him everything else he needed when they only saw him a day a year. This information brought back the need for them to try to find a way for Harry to summon Imprints whenever he wanted.

And while Harry wanted mainly to focus on what he knew he could do, meaning his normal magic, he wanted to see his grandparents more often and for that he was ready to spent more time on his Necromancy, even if there hadn't been any advancement on this side of his powers for a while now.

When Charlus and Dorea left this time, it was with a promise from Harry that he would do everything he could to make them proud and find a way to keep them with him all year round.

Like most of the time when a child promised something, it was either impossible, nearly impossible or just really easy.

Finding a way to bind Imprints to oneself, trying to rediscover a ritual that had been lost for several centuries, wasn't an easy task. Fortunately for the last Potters, it was however not an impossible one.

It took nonetheless three more years to Harry for him to find a way to make it work. Sure, he had had many ideas, some of them even approved by his grandparents, but either it hadn't worked or Harry had preferred not to risk the Imprints' existence.

However he had discovered after three years a few interesting informations in the black strands of his Necromancy, and one of the most recent bit of information was exactly what he needed. He had also discovered why he could only access small portions of this part of his powers, while he had access to all of his 'normal' magic.

It was a sort of a safeguard. The energy requirement for some things he had uncovered were more than what he could have handled a few years ago, and it made sense that his magic tried to protect its wielder, like when his accidental magic acted on its own to save him from a danger.

What he needed wasn't really a ritual, because there was no need for blood or a big ceremony. It was quite simple in fact. When he thought of all the time he had spent looking for an idea in fantasy books at the library… Since he no one had been there to tell him even a hint of an idea of what to do, he decided that it couldn't hurt to look in books. After all, they were supposed to hold knowledge.

And so when he had learnt how to read, a little over a year ago, he had chosen to focus on fantasy books. For now, no one could teach him magic but that didn't mean he couldn't use books to find ideas. There weren't many things about rites in there, except in some tomes about old civilizations like Incas who used to worship their gods using rituals. Of course, that was so ancient that nobody really knew what those rituals had been about anymore.

But it had nonetheless given him the idea of what to do, and it also had been a pleasurable way to spend his free time.

It was now Halloween again, and he was ready to tell what he had found to his family, as well as perform the one thing he was sure would work to keep them with him.

He had figured that he could use a tendril of Necromancy to tie them to him or his location once they were here. After all, he still didn't know how to summon anything or anyone but if they were already there then he didn't have that problem anymore.

As he explained this to his grandparents, he could feel their pride and see it in their eyes. They too believed he had found a solution, not The solution. The one that would finally work.

And so Harry set to work. It was actually the first time he had an audience while doing magic, since usually the Potters' Imprints weren't there or he was secluded in his cupboard. To Harry it was simply a matter of reaching his magical core. From the outside, it looked very different.

For one, the boy's breathing was so slow it seemed almost inexistent. To tell the truth, he could pass for dead if not for the slight rise of his chest. Also there was a slight aura around him, seeping from his body. It was white at first, and they wouldn't have noticed it if not for the moment it changed to black and became much more noticeable. It didn't feel evil, far away from it. It even had a feeling of rightness to it, which was kind of strange.

Not even a few minutes later, they felt something reach them, like a small spark at first and then more like a shock, but a very cold one. They honestly never thought they would feel something ever again, so the pain it brought was very surprising, though it didn't last for long.

Harry hadn't felt anything, and the only difficulty he met was to extend a small part of his magic toward the two Imprints without the link breaking. It took him a few try but he overcame that problem relatively quickly, no more than a dozen of minutes. Of course, it would have taken a lot more if he hadn't been able to locate them, but fortunately he had discovered that to him Imprints emitted a particular kind of 'feeling', for a lack of better term.

When he opened his eyes, he didn't feel any different, but he knew it had worked. They checked nonetheless, and saw that when one of the two Imprints was in another room he just had to call his or her name for the person he wanted to appear next to him back in the room.

Dorea and Charlus described the feeling as "the strangest thing they had ever experimented". Seeing as they had Apparated for quite a long time when they were alive, took several Portkeys and even traveled through fireplaces, it really told something about this way to travel. Charlus had expected, as Dorea did, not to notice anything like when they visited on Halloween. Instead, if the dead could die again, they would have from all the spinning, yanking… one experienced in the wherever they went to travel.

But it worked, and that was all that mattered to the small Potter family, since it meant that now the older ones could spend more time with their youngest (and only) descendant instead of simply leaving him alone all year.

They would be able to see the magic he did and guide him as parents did since it was painfully obvious that the Dursleys weren't doing their guardian's job properly. Seriously, there may have been an excuse to keep him in the cupboard when he was four, but now that was just plain stupidity if not abuse.

They would no longer be limited by the distance and would only be a call away. It was something they had been waiting for for years.

Harry would be brought up in the ways of magic, and damned be the one who had left him with ignorant Muggles of all people!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, nothing belongs to me… sad, isn't it?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story, added me to their favorites or alerts. I love you guys ;)

**Chapter 7 :**

Privet Drive was a very normal place. At first glance, one would see rows after rows of identical houses and would never imagine in their wildest dreams that something strange could happen there. However some people knew better. And among those people was a very special boy, living at number 4.

He may be one of the only people outside in the middle of January, when everyone preferred to stay indoors as much as possible. But not him. As soon as school ended, Harry Potter went to the park and more specifically in the small part where some of the inhabitants had had trees planted. They formed as sort of small bush, but a few years ago someone (probably kids) had spread rumors of happening behind them and even if the police never found any proof, it was sufficient for this corner to be avoided like plague.

Thus why it was such a perfect place for Harry to hide in, seeing as 1) nobody could see him and 2) nobody wanted to come near it. And that was a good thing because anyone who would have been watching would have thought him crazy.

After all, would someone sane spend willingly hours on the hard ground under such a cold weather only to apparently talk to himself?

But Harry wasn't alone. And he was very sane. But something, at least, was right in what people thought of him: he wasn't normal. At least, not what the inhabitants of Privet Drive considered normal.

Harry was a wizard, a Necromancer more precisely and he was currently speaking to the Imprints of his dead grandparents.

"Let's try this again, Harry. You were nearly there last time", encouraged him a blue-eyed woman. Beside her stood a taller man, her husband. They were Dorea and Charlus Potter.

The short black-haired wizard in front of them nodded and closed his eyes. He extended one of his hands, palm upward and slowly a small ball of energy began to appear. It grew from something the size of a grain of sand to that of a tennis ball and then began to shift.

As Harry opened his arms, he held in his right hand a blue flame that wasn't burning him but rather radiating warmth. He smiled happily. He had done it.

The ghosts echoed his smile. "I knew you could do it, son. Well done. And with this you'll no longer be cold when you come here" That was Charlus' main goal when he proposed to teach the boy how to make the fire. He had been able to see that their grandson, though he didn't want to admit it, was always cold when he came here.

Making the fire wasn't the difficulty in this. No, it was keeping it under control and warm enough for it to be useful. Usually if a wizard lost control of his fire spell the spell ended up burning everything it encountered. They also had taught him this spell (though it maybe couldn't be called that because a spell implied a wand and Harry used none) because it would help his control. The fact that this fire wasn't able to burn was a big bonus in this.

Controlling one's magic was essential for what they wanted him to learn next. Occlumency. Dorea as a Black had been taught the rudiments of it before going at Hogwarts and she wanted to make sure Harry would too. After all the Mind Art was easier to learn the younger you were.

"What's Occlumency exactly, grandma?"

"It's something we usually teach our children when they're around your age to protect their mind. You see, magic is a tool but some people use it for bad purposes. It's possible to read in another wizard's mind and it's not something we want, especially with your powers. We don't want people finding out what you are."

"You're always saying that but why exactly? I mean you say I'm special but I'm sure I'm not the only Necromancer in the world. So why is it so important to keep this a secret?"

"That's where you're wrong. Of course we have no way to be really sure of it, but no Necromancer has been heard of for decades if not centuries. And other wizards are not very tolerant of Necromancers and of Necromancy. It's labeled as a Dark Art these days and you know just what the Ministry thinks of Dark magic and the people practicing it."

Dorea looked apologetic as she said this, almost like it hurt her personally that Harry's talents wouldn't be appreciated as she thought they should. And maybe it did. After all they were family and she wanted to be able to be openly proud of her grandson and because of some stupid bureaucrats she wouldn't be able to (not that anyone could see her, but still). She didn't want her grandson to have to hide.

Harry knew exactly what the Ministry thought of the Dark Arts and creatures, and while he agreed that some things should be restricted, he knew deep down that they weren't going about it the right way. Restricting the rights of everyone but pureblood wizards was just a sure way to get riots, or worse, a war. Plus the Minister was always corrupt these days (from what his grandparents had told him, he must have changed since they died but he shouldn't expect much of a difference with what they had told him).

To think he may be the only one with those powers in the entire world because the magical world was too prejudiced was scary. To think that he would probably have to hide for his whole life was even more horrible. If learning this Occulu-thing was going to help him be safe, then of course he was going to be the best at it.

"So what do I have to do to learn Occulomancy?"

Biting back a laugh, Dorea corrected him. "It's Occlumency. And I think the best way for you to learn is to do it the way I was taught, meaning you have to find your mind and organize your thoughts. I know this doesn't make much sense right now but I do think it's the best way for you since you're already used to meditation and that's what usually takes the longest to learn."

And she was absolutely right, it didn't make any sense to Harry. Was there actually a mental manifestation of himself somewhere in his mind? That sounded quite weird and really unrealistic. But apparently there was…

"Well then I guess I just have to try if it is so important…" Sighing, Harry closed his eyes and fell into the now familiar meditation's state, his grandmother's hand ruffling playfully through his already messy hair.

He almost immediately found himself in the familiar (but still as breathtaking) mindscape that was his magic. It was obvious that whatever it was that he was looking for wouldn't be found here since he already knew everything there was to know about this place. With a thought, he went to the only other place that could give him a clue of what to do next and where to go: back to the black mist he had first found himself in when he had tried to locate his magic.

It hadn't changed at all. Not that he had expected it to anyway but it was nice to hope. For something in his own mind, it was a bit creepy.

Remembering how he had managed to find his magical core and how he could 'move' in there, he tried to wish himself to find his mind. It didn't work. Of course, nothing could be easy… But maybe it was just because he hadn't used the right thoughts, the right words to characterize the place he wanted to find.

From what he had understood of his aunt's tips, he had to find another mindscape, different from the one used by his magic and where his thoughts and feeling would be held. Using the same method he had used to find his magic, he wished himself in his own mind.

It was the strangest feeling. It was like getting sucked through a straw and pinched from all sides except that it didn't hurt at all. Sure it wasn't exactly pleasant, but at least it didn't hurt. Opening his eyes (he never remembered closing them, but it seemed that it was a reflex not to keep his eyes open when he 'moved') he took in the new scenery around him.

It was beautiful too, but not in the way seeing his magic twirling around him had been and still was. It was less defined for once, and there was no barrier closing him of from the world.

Instead he was on a sort of white cloudy _thing _(not that he actually knew what a cloud felt like but it felt like what he thought a cloud would feel like) that seemed endless. No matter where he looked there were what looked like ruins of a big castle and thoughts speeding through the air. All in all, it was once again a breath-taking scene.

Getting closer to one of the ruins he noticed quickly that it wasn't as much the ruins of castle that the foundation of one. Curious, Harry put a hand on the stone block he was in front of and immediately he gasped.

_Flashback:_

_Harry suddenly found himself in a place he didn't recognize. One thing was sure, it was a kitchen and he was there. Well a baby him was._

_It was quite strange, seeing this scene from two perspectives at the same time. He could remember seeing it from his baby's eyes and he could remember the sudden and sharp bursts of emotion he had felt but at the same time he was now, touching a stone that obviously wasn't a stone in his mindscape and seeing the scene once again as a spectator._

_Bewildered as to what was happening and suddenly excited, the green-eyed boy waved a hand in front of his younger self. There was no reaction. Frowning to himself, he tried to touch him but his hand just went through. If he hadn't already understood that this was a memory he would have been sure of it at this very moment._

_At the same time, emerging from the hazy edges of the memory a red-haired woman strode confidently toward his baby self and took him gently in her arms, smiling widely. She looked really happy and the half of him that was reliving the scene felt a burst of love that nearly got him on his knees. He wasn't used to that._

_She carefully settled him down and took her wand out. Waving it, he saw a breakfast begin to cook itself as his younger self clapped happily. Harry was even more interested, if possible, because it was the first time he saw someone else do magic. His grandparents had told him of wands, of course, but he didn't really understood what the need for the object was._

_Watching his mom do magic with it so effortlessly though, made it look so clear. Sure he could do all of this too and probably even more without using a wand but he would need some time to recuperate after. He guessed he would last longer the more he practiced and the older he grew, because in the few year he had done magic his endurance had already increased so much but with a wand… There was no guessing what he would be able to do._

_As he drunk in the image of his mother (it was the first time he saw her after all), he didn't notice the messy-haired man sneaking up on her and putting his hands on her eyes (they actually had the same eyes. How wonderful was that?)._

"_Who is it?" His father asked jokingly._

_For all answer she just turned and kissed him lightly on the mouth, leaving her wand on the table and relaxing in his arms. Harry felt his cheek redden as he closed his eyes._

"_You know, I ought to be jealous. Do you kiss every man who sneaks up on you?" His father really had a wonderful smile. It made his eyes sparkle with joy and the way he looked at Harry's mother just showed how much he loved her._

"_Only those who are my husbands" Was Lily's cheeky answer._

"_How many people do I need to kill then?"_

"_Idiot." The red-haired witch said fondly as she went to give baby Harry his food._

_As the rest of the memory went by, Harry just stood there, drinking greedily the sight of his parents having a happy life with him. His aunt and his uncle always told him his parents had been good for nothing but since his grandparents told him the contrary he didn't really know what to thin except that they loved him._

_It was only when his vision blurred that he realized he was crying. Wiping the tears away, he let the memory dissolve around him and he found himself back in his mindscape._

_End Flashback_

As he withdrew his hand from the rock that wasn't a rock (it was obviously a memory, but why had it taken the shape of a rock?), Harry felt strangely elated. Here was a chance to get to know his parents, to really see them and how they lived before. It was so much more than just hearing stories about how great they were and how much they loved each other and him. It was seeing it.

Walking away from this happy memory, he just walked aimlessly in the cloudy field, watching the memory blocks around him, noting the differences between one and another and sometimes touching one, just to know what it held.

He had managed to find another memory of when he was with his parents, but this time he saw his grandparents and several from just after his arrival at the Dursleys that he didn't remember. He didn't know what to do with this field though, or how to use it to do that Occlumency thing his grandmother was so keen on.

He decided to come back to his body to ask her what he had to do. After all, she had only told him to find his mind. He was sure she hadn't expected him to do this so quickly and easily, and harry couldn't help but feel proud.

As he came back to his senses, he could hear a hushed conversation between his grandparents. Apparently his control had gotten better if they were still here when he had just spent more than an hour retreated into himself without consciously thinking about keeping them here with him.

"Dorea, I think it's time he goes there. You know he has to find what happened. We can't learn it ourselves if we can't even talk to anyone"

"I know, but I just wish we could wait a little longer. He's still young, you know, and we have time before he goes to Hogwarts. Plus I don't really want him to venture in the magical world all alone…"

It was obvious by the way the argument was going that it had been going on for quite a while, probably even before Harry began to meditate today. And he knew exactly what had created it in the first time.

It was something that had happened the last week-end. His aunt Petunia had told him she wanted him to go with her to help shop for groceries (as in he was supposed to carry what she bought so that she could walk hand-free).

She had sent him get the milk and as he put the bottles in the trolley a weird man had approached him and had begun to worship him. Seriously, he kept saying his name over and over, thanking him as he shook his hand (that he wouldn't let go of). Harry had been more than a bit freaked out but his magic sight had shown him the man was a wizard.

Looking at the man was like looking at the sun when you had always lived in the dark before. It was beautiful but it hurt too, white hot light against his eyes. He had known immediately the man was a wizard, how could he not be?

It had taken Harry he few minutes to get used to the sight and he was sure he had made a very good personification of a dying fish. Though no matter how bright his magic had been, the man had not been much better in the idiot department, and at least Harry had had an excuse for his behavior. Before he had been able to ask anything to the man however, his aunt had torn them apart, giving the man a foul look and dragged the young wizard away from the store, forgetting their initial purpose and giving him a tongue-lashing he would forever remember.

Now that this had happened, he remembered that it wasn't the first time strange people had accosted him in the street. Once when he had been at school an old lady had saluted him and offered to help him get home. He had refused, of course (because he had been told not to follow strangers. No matter how much the Dursleys wished he had never been left in their care, they didn't want this kind of problem happening to their family) but now he wondered if the woman had been a witch too.

Another time he had taken the bus with his aunt and cousin to go to London and a young woman had stared in awe of him for the whole ride, and each time that he looked at her, she blushed and hid behind a newspaper. He could have sworn this newspaper's photos were moving at the time but he hadn't really thought much of it as they were late to an appointment at the dentist.

He had been able to list perhaps a dozen of these encounters after that meeting with someone he knew was a wizard and had told his grandparents as soon as he was home that night. And from that moment on he had seen them sharing knowing and worried looks. He had waited long enough for them to tell him and he really wanted to know what was bothering them so much.

"What are you talking about?"

Harry's voice, coming after nearly two hours of silence on his part, surprised the two Imprints so much that they jumped. Harry never would have guessed the dead could actually still be surprised, but obviously they could…

"Noting sweetheart" Dorea said tenderly before she tried to change the subject. "So how was it? Did you manage to find your mind?"

However Harry was nothing if not stubborn (something he had apparently inherited from both his parents), and after a curt 'yes' came back to the subject that interested him at this moment.

Sensing the situation was about to get worse, since his parents weren't the only one Harry had inherited his stubbornness from, Charlus decided to explain. Anyway, it was what he wanted to do for a few days now and it was probably the better occasion he would have since his wife would almost certainly let the information out in her anger. It happened often (nearly every time she was angry over something like that) and never ended well, for everyone involved, since the way she usually said the secret or whatever she was hiding hurt the person she was hiding it from, even when it was for a good reason in the beginning.

"We think that it may be time for you to go to Diagon Alley and find what happened all these years ago. Your grandmother is just a bit worried about your safety and letting you go alone."

"I thought you didn't know the entrance…" Harry thought aloud, remembering that this was the reason why he was so secluded from the magical world when he knew of its existence.

"We still don't, but we figured that you could send us to the Leaky Cauldron and from there we'd find out how to enter from the Muggle world. Maybe gather some information for you, but I doubt we'll get much after so much time as passed. Our best bet would be books, but since we can't exactly interact with objects… You'll have to do this yourself."

"I can send you away, just like that?" Harry said, bewildered. He knew he could make them come to him and that they would return to Potter Manor when he got too tired or when he let them, but he had never thought they could go somewhere where he personally wasn't.

"Yes. We think so at least." Ignoring is wife's hard glare, Charlus ruffled affectionately Harry's hair. "That way we'll be able to guide you there and you won't be totally alone."

The only reason Charlus had suggested this was because he knew his wife would agree and because it was the only way for them to introduce Harry to the magical world the way they wanted.

Plus if they were able to gather some useful information to help them understand what had happened all these years ago in Godric's Hallow, well it was a bonus.

At Harry's nod, he told his grandson that he just had to tell them to order them to go to the Leaky Cauldron and then to wait a few hours, maybe until the next day to summon them back. Hopefully they would have learnt something interesting by then.

"Uhm… Well could you go to the Leaky Cauldron for me… please?"

Though the end of the sentence was more of a question, the two Imprints disappeared in front of Harry. Now alone, the young boy went back to Privet Drive to wait for his grandparents' return.


	8. Chapter 8

Oh my god I'm so sorry, it's been so long since I last updated. I never meant to take so long to post another chapter, but I had my exams, then there was Christmas and things just kept piling up and I had a total block on this chapter which means I've rewritten it at least four times.

Anyway, here it is and I hope I'll manage to get the next one soon.

Like usual, thanks to everyone who reviewed, added me to their favorite or alerts. I love you guys :) A special thanks to _**saraquel**_ who kept PMing me to post that chapter.

_Word count: _3987

**Chapter 8:**

The Leaky Cauldron hadn't changed in all the years they hadn't come. The only difference Dorea could notice was that the bartender was older, and even that wasn't very noticeable. She didn't know what she expected, really, but it wasn't that. The place was still as crowded and she was sure that had she been alive she would have smelled the same oily scents and seen the same dirty stains on the walls.

Of course that was without considering the fact that she and her husband where standing in the middle of the crowded room and that nobody noticed them. Not that they would have been particularly noticed had they still been alive – well, that actually depended on what exactly had happened on Halloween all these years ago – but she was sure as hell people wouldn't have walked through them. And that really was a strange feeling. Well, not exactly feeling since she hadn't felt anything but she had seen it happen and that wasn't something she wished to remember.

However, it was the first time they were somewhere they knew – that wasn't the Manor – without Harry and that was something she had never actually expected to happen. That was why she took perhaps a bit more time than what was needed to look at her surroundings. Surprisingly, there weren't any Imprints like them here, though she supposed it sort of made sense since she didn't remember anybody dying in the Leaky Cauldron. Apparently the pub was off-limit.

Charlus nudged her arm and shook her out of her admiration for the place.

"Remember, Harry told us to come here for a reason and we don't know how long we'll be able to stay away from him. We never tried this before."

In retrospect, maybe they should have. It would have been clever to find how long they could stay away from him, how far they could go from the place he sent us to or if we could even separate – that would cover more area, but would it also divide the time we had? In the end they both decided it would be wiser to just stay together and to hurry as much as possible.

Harry could sent them here again, but the more information they gathered, the less time he would have to send them here, which meant he couldn't do anything else, and Occlumency was something he would definitely need, especially since they had no way to test his – future – mental barriers.

"You're right; we should get out of here."

They moved toward the back of the pub, where they knew the entrance to Diagon Alley laid. It hadn't been a path they took often, because firstly they had used to ask – when they were alive – to one of their House-Elves to buy most of what they needed for them, secondly they preferred to come to the pub just to enjoy the people there or to meet someone and thirdly when they needed to get to Diagon Alley they usually just Transplaned there, it was much easier.

It was however a gateway they knew well enough to remember how it worked at what needed to be done to open it, which would be a good thing for when Harry came.

Dorea faltered a bit when confronted to the brick wall, and Charlus immediately stopped beside her.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. It's just…"

"What?"

"Well, we don't know what we'll find on the other side. Here looks pretty normal, but then I don't remember that place ever having been affected too much by the wars. Less customers maybe, but it mostly stayed the same. What if something happened in those last years, what if another Dark wizard rose and overtook our world while it was trying to rebuild itself?"

"I'm sure you're overreacting. Everything's fine. Besides, don't you think we might have heard something had the world gone south? I mean, Harry's been part of whatever happened that night with Voldemort, so he would have been found long ago had that kind of thing happened. No, I'm sure you're worrying for nothing."

"Yeah, but what if…"

"But what if nothing. Dorea, darling, even if something happened, nothing can harm us because we're dead, people can't see us so we'll just observe what we can out there. If something bad happened, like you think it did, then we'll just tell Harry and get him to leave or find a way to get him introduced to the magical world via another country. We used to spend some time in France for the summers, and I'm sure our boy would love it there."

"I think you're right," Dorea replied, sighing heavily as she looked at the barrier with still a slight defiance. "Well, I supposed we need to find out, right?"

"That we do. So, should we go?"

His wife didn't reply, and instead took his hand and they crossed through the wall. It was the weirdest feeling. Ever since they had found Harry, they had become much more aware of themselves and of whom they used to be and what they were now. There was no doubt they'd never have realized they were lingering in their Manor hadn't it been the place where James and Lily had chosen to live for a while after Harry's birth. Charlus even could speculate that other Imprints weren't as aware as they were – except maybe in rare case where they saw something important happen, which would explain all those things Muggles called 'ghosts apparitions'.

The street on the other side was more crowded than they remembered it, and for a weird moment they expected people to greet them. After all, some of the older wizards and witches present were ones they had known, and to see them alive and well was a relief. Then of course reality came crashing back down on them – just in time for someone to pass through them.

Surprisingly, they didn't feel anything, even though the hurried wizard who was speeding toward the Apothecary shivered slightly for a moment. Charlus had always thought that when a human stepped through a ghost – or in that case Imprint – the ghost felt something too, because each time they accidentally had done it at Hogwarts, the ghost looked at them with disdain and in some case even got angry.

"So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I think the best place to find information usually is the library, but I think the bookshop will do," Dorea answered, smirking.

"You know we won't be able to touch a book, right? That might be slightly problematic if we want to read what's in the bookshop."

"Of course I do, but there might be other ways."

Dorea ignored her husband's attempts to get what 'other ways' there might be out of her in favor for entering Flourish and Blotts and immediately going toward the History section. History had always been her favorite subject, but even more so once she had left Hogwarts. Binns wasn't a real teacher, and she couldn't understand how the Headmaster allowed a ghost to teach children something as important as History.

Everyone always fell asleep, most failed their History Owls when it was such an important subject. After all, how were they supposed to learn from their mistakes if they couldn't remember them? Her mother had always told her the past was where they learned what not to do and what worked, but of all her classmates, she could count on her hand how many knew the reasons for Dark Wizards' appearance, how House-Elves came to be and why Goblins kept rebelling.

After Hogwarts though, she had found another teacher and with the help of books held in their library – first the one belonging to her family then to Charlus' – she had gotten to love the subject once more. She had so spent quite a lot of time in Flourish and Blotts though, so she knew exactly where to go and what to look for.

There, just where she had known it would be, in a dark corner was an opened book lying on an antique book holder. She knew the book was charmed to turn its pages every few minutes, just in case someone was trying to read it. It had been something she had suggested after she had heard that the Muggles had things called 'public libraries' when she had worked in the bookshop for a few months.

It had been a hit almost immediately, and the owner had put on in every row in the shop, putting one of the most recent books they had acquired on it and changing it every two weeks.

The one in the History section was almost always left alone, but it was perfect for them. The page it was currently on was about the war against Grindelwald and how it had ended, and looking for the title – printed in very small letters at the top of all pages, useful thing – she knew that 'Rise And Fall of Dark Lords Through The Ages' was just what they needed.

"So we just have to wait for the pages to turn y themselves until it get to the Dark Lord we're interested in?" Charlus asked after she explained the concept to him.

"Yes. It shouldn't take long though, Voldemort's the next one, and there shouldn't be more than half a dozen pages about him."

And indeed the book was almost at its end, and a few minutes later, the page slowly turned.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's rise to power and defeat by Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived," Dorea whispered as the title of the new chapter was revealed.

"Well, at least we know it was Harry who defeated him," Charlus tried to joke, but his face was worried.

"Hush, we don't have a lot of time to read it. When the page is turned you can't come back to it and when at the end of the book the charm makes it come back to the beginning. And I don't know for you, but I'd rather not have to wait for the two thousands pages before that one to be turned again because we missed the information we wanted."

"Alright, alright, I'll shut up."

"Good."

And they read.

oO-Oo

It wasn't until he spent all Saturday morning alone that harry realized just how much he had relied on his grandparent's presence. It had now been quite some time since he had spent a week-end without seeing them, and having to spend it with the Dursleys alone again was proving to be very different.

He usually escaped out of the house and went to the park, where he hid and tried to use his magic with more or less success. Unfortunately, it was raining that day which meant he was unable to leave – because Dudley was staying indoors too – and his aunt and uncle were constantly finding more chores for him to do. It wasn't even midday, and he already had made them breakfast, cleaned the kitchen and tidied up Dudley's bedroom, because he apparently was too stupid to do even that and also because the state it had been in had scared even Petunia.

Harry had nearly died a few times from the smell and the discovery of decaying pieces of whatever his cousin had brought back in his room to eat was always a perfect way to get him trying not to throw up, but after two hours the room looked better, and the air was breathable. How Dudley could live in here was beyond him, but then pigs could live in horrible smell and his cousin certainly looked like one.

It looked like he would have to clean up Dudley's other room too, but at least that one was just mostly gathering dust. He hadn't told his grandparents yet, but he had been planning to find a way to get this room for himself soon. There was no reason his cousin could have two rooms for himself, another bedroom could stay empty while he was stuck in the cupboard under the stairs, even if they didn't like him.

He knew perfectly that the police would see it as abuse, but he knew better than to menace his relatives with that. After all, it would only be too easy to move his meager belongings to that mostly empty room, and with the way it was half filled with discarded toys and books, it would be easy to believe Harry was actually sleeping there. His life wasn't so bad, especially since he was able to avoid spending time with his 'family' except for eating and sleeping, and he really didn't want to be forced to stay inside.

"Harry!" His aunt's shrill voice came from downstairs and Harry came down the stairs sighing, entering the kitchen where he just knew his aunt would be.

"Yes Aunt Petunia?"

She threw a look that clearly said she was not impressed by the way he was dressed, her lips thin, but she made no reproaches for once and told him to go set the table. Harry nodded, and went to the living-room. He probably would have to wash the dishes after, since after lunch was the timeslot his aunt and uncle had chosen for their nap. He wasn't looking forward to it, but it couldn't be worse than cleaning his cousin's room.

As he set the dishes, he looked through the window and noticed absent-mindedly that the sky looked like it was clearing up. The heavy grey clouds they had seen since this morning were looking much lighter, and at some places were more white than gray. They were even a few patches of blue sky, and a few rays of sun piercing through. Perhaps he would be able to leave while his uncle and aunt slept, and if the weather allowed it, he'd only come back for dinner.

He knew that if the weather changed Dudley would leave. Sure his cousin was lazy and liked to play on his video games or watch the TV, but for some reason Harry couldn't comprehend, he actually preferred to be outside with his gang. Of course, the activities they did once outside were much less interesting and legal than the one Harry did, but at least it would allow to sneak off.

He should have known better than to say nothing could be worse than Dudley's room. Witnessing Dudley eating was actually nearly on par with the horror of being in his room, but he had forgotten what it was like to clean up behind him. He hoped he wouldn't have to do it again, but he knew that was a fool's hope.

Apart from that, lunch was fairly quiet and Harry kept glancing at the slowly clearing up sky, noticing that Dudley was beginning to look interested in it too, which meant he now had good chances to be able to leave the house later in the afternoon.

Harry was left with the chore to clean up what was left of their meal, just as he had known he would, and Dudley left without even leaving a message for his parents to go meet Piers Polkiss, the closest thing he had to a best friend, but who Harry thought was more like a second in command in their little gang, Dudley evidently being the chief – he was the fattest and hit the hardest, which seemed to mean something for them.

Half an hour after his cousin left, Harry had finished what he had to do and he left for the park. The ground was still slightly muddy, but the trees had protected it a bit and the sun had helped it dry a bit since it had stopped raining. He looked up at a particularly leafy tree and thought 'why not?'. After all, it would surely be drier up there, and he would be more hidden too. Plus, it would be fun.

If climbing up the tree was fun, finding a position comfortable enough to sit wasn't. Though when he did, it felt like more of a success than it probably was. From where he was he had an amazing view of the whole park, something he hadn't expected. He must have climbed higher than he thought, and indeed when he looked around he noticed the other trees were all a bit smaller than the one he was on. It was what allowed him to see everything.

There wasn't much to see though, because not many people had had the will to get out when it was so obviously still wet outside, and when it could rain again at any moment. They preferred to stay inside for the day and hope the next would be better if they had any choice, well at least it was what everyone in Privet's Drive did.

It was at the very moment he decided that he would try to work on his magic again, and perhaps see if he could summon his grandparents back – he was getting bored, and they had been gone for nearly a day; they had to have found something by now – that he saw his cousin and his gang running after a little boy.

His sight wasn't great, and his glasses were a bit steamy, but from where he was he could clearly see that boy had no chance against the older and bigger boys. He looked fast, and he was a few meters ahead from his pursuers, but they were six, he was alone and they were catching up. Harry wished he could do something, but even if he somehow managed to get to the boy in time, which he knew he wouldn't be able to, he wouldn't stand a chance against Dudley and his gang either.

He ached to move and run after the one designed to be his cousin's victim – he knew from experience that it never was a happy experience to have, and he didn't wish it on anyone, even if most often it just ended with a few bruises and stolen goods – or to yell at him to beware. But it was obvious that whoever it was he knew he was getting pursued and that a scream would only distract him, even more if he didn't know where it came from, and that was if his warning could be heard from the other end of the park.

He was biting through his lips, and he had never wanted someone to be there to tell him what to do so badly. There truly was nothing he – wait, actually he could at least try. He had his magic after all. He had been able to move small stuff before, and always close to him, but he had to try. If he didn't, well he would feel bad.

Slipping into the familiar state of mind where he had access to his magic was easy, as was managing to get some of the 'ball' he had created to split and go through the now regular channels made for it. The hard part was to find what he wanted the magic to do. He wouldn't really get a lot of opportunities, because he knew that boy didn't have a lot of time and it probably would take more time than he had to reassemble his magic and try again.

It had to be something small, something simple and something that would if not stop them, at least slow the pursuers down. Perhaps making one or two fall down would be possible, it shouldn't be that hard…

He leaned against the tree and focused his stare on what was happening just in front of him, gathering slowly his magic and trying to give it a purpose. It would have a longer course to travel, and failure wasn't an option. For once, he didn't want to feel useless against the Dursleys' behavior with others, and if he couldn't really defend himself, then he at least would do his best to defend others.

Sending his magic, trying to make it keep the course and the intent he had given it intact and keeping it strong enough was a lot harder than he had thought he would be and feeling his magic flow steadily from him toward the other boy like an insidious force was probably the weirdest feeling Harry had ever experienced – and he had slammed quite a few dozen times in an invisible wall in his mind.

He felt the magic reach its goal before he saw it and maybe half a second before Dudley and Piers tripped on their own feet, thus triggering their four _followers_' fall, he saw it happen in his mind, sort of like an after-image stayed in front of your eyes when you looked at a light, but before the event happened. It didn't last long, and once the boys really fell it stopped, but it had been confusing. Would that kind of thing happen each time he used magic? He had never gotten such an effect before, but then what he had done had usually been easier stuff.

It didn't matter though, at least not right away. First, he had to celebrate the fact that he had finally managed to do real magic, not just attract some random object or just_ see_ what was around him. For once, he had managed to affect his surroundings. Not, this time he had done something and he had been useful. That boy would have gotten beaten up without his intervention, and though nobody would probably ever know, it still felt really good to know he was able to do something right when he wanted to.

And now that he knew how it had felt to do it, Harry somehow instinctively knew he would be able to do it again. The only thing left to do was to be able to get it done faster, because it had nonetheless taken him a couple of minutes to get two boys to trip. But if he managed to get it right, he would be able to use it when his cousin tried to beat someone else.

Perhaps he would be able to find something that would convince him to become a better person. Harry didn't have much hope, but if it was possible then he would try, because even after all the things he had done, Dudley was still family, just like his aunt and his uncle were, no matter how much they disliked him or how much he couldn't stand them.

Harry felt filled with hope, and there, sitting at the top of that tree, he felt like he could do anything. Now, if only he could have his grandparents with him so he'd have someone to share the news with…

Of course, such happiness couldn't last, because he remembered that Dudley being one of the first to fell, he didn't have anyone to cushion him – though maybe his fat had been useful for once – and would probably get back to number 4 as quickly as he could so his mother could patch him up. And Harry wasn't allowed to stay outdoors when his cousin was inside.

Harry came down the tree so quickly he wondered how he didn't fell, but he somehow managed not to even scratch himself, which was a good thing because his aunt didn't take too kindly to him being hurt. Of course, that wasn't in the sense it meant for her son. For Harry, it just meant he'd get punished, most often with more chores that Dudley should do, because he had 'done something he wasn't supposed to'. It was lucky the wizard didn't bruise easily.

As Harry ran toward his temporary home that never really felt like one, two Imprints back in London discovered very slowly – they couldn't interact with the real world after all – just how close to death their one year-old grandson had been.


End file.
